The True Champion
by RomanceNovelist1111
Summary: Despite experiencing cruelty in every form, Harry remained pure of heart, championing peace, love, and unity. READ AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR ANSWERS TO REVIEW QUESTIONS. See profile for story guide. I'm not going to be able to upload consistently so bear with me
1. Harry's Worst Day Ever

**Harry's Worst Day Ever**

**Let me just place emphasis on some of the themes in this story. THIS IS NOT A STORY BASED ON REVENGE OR LUST. Those who are looking for such themes, I can tell you now, you will be very disappointed by this story.** **Rather, the main themes will be the derivation of strength from love, sympathy, and acceptance in the face of adversity. Harry will experience a lot of suffering - emotionally, physically, isolation, and even sexually. This story actually places great emphasis on his suffering and how it affects his character. **

_**Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.**_ _**Where there is hatred, let me sow love.**_ _**Where there is injury, pardon.**_ _**Where there is doubt, faith.**_ _**Where there is despair, hope.**_ _**Where there is darkness, light.**_ _**Where there is sadness, joy.**_

_**O Divine Master,**____**grant that I may not so much seek**_ _**to be consoled, as to console;**_ _**to be understood, as to understand;**_ _**to be loved, as to love.**_ _**For it is in giving that we receive.**_ _**It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,**_ _**and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life**__._

_James Potter waved his wand in a figure eight motion, entertaining his young son by transfiguring a vase into a parrot. "Our son is going to be a transfiguration master when he grows older, just like me," he announced with much affection and fondness. "He already shows interest, Lily. See?" He gestured to Harry, his son, who laughed delightedly as his father easily transfigured the parrot into a hawk._

_Lily shook her head, pretending to be exasperated. "James, how many times do I have to tell you that our son is going to have a greater affinity for charms? He's only one, and he's already levitating things all over the place!" But she smiled and laid her head on her husband's shoulder, eyeing Harry with as much love as a mother can possibly give her child._

_James chuckled lightly. "Of course, Lily. And I suppose he'll be awesome at everything else, too?"_

"_Of course! He's…"_

"_Shhhh…hold on, Lily." He could've sworn he heard their gates squeaking open. "Do you hear that? It's probably Dumbledore or Sirius or our other friends." He stood up, leaving his wand on the couch, and went to their front door, which clicked open. He froze, fear gripping his heart as a figure in a black cloak entered their house._

"_James, who…?" Lily was carrying Harry and walking towards him from the living room._

"_Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!_" _James cried. So many emotions flickered across his eyes as he stood between Voldemort and his family. Peter betrayed them; his own friend betrayed him. He had trusted him…Lily, his wife, and Harry, his son, his only son, might not live to see another day…Voldemort was here; he himself was without a wand. There was no doubt that he would die tonight. How stupid of him to forget his wand! He had been a good enough duelist to defy the Dark Lord himself three times. How could he have been so careless as to leave his wand in the living room? It didn't matter now though. Voldemort was after his family, and the only way he was going to reach Lily is by going over James's dead body, even though without his wand, he would only be able to hold Voldemort off for a few seconds at most._

_Voldemort laughed. "You think you can stop me without a wand?" Without a second thought, he raised his wand at James's heart and hissed, "Avada Kedavra!" A green light shot out of the tip of his wand and hit James in the chest._

_James's eyes clouded over, and he collapsed to the ground._

_Voldemort glanced up the stairs. Now, for the boy…_

_As Lily reached Harry's nursery, tears ran down her cheeks. James was dead. She heard Voldemort said that her husband didn't have his wand with him. She also heard his body thump to the ground. Lily herself forgot her own wand in her haste to get Harry to safety. It was such a stupid mistake. Now, Voldemort had them cornered. Lily placed Harry down in his playpen. This was the last and only thing she could do. "Harry, my son, everything will be alright," she whispered soothingly despite the tears pouring down her cheeks. "It will be alright." She herself knew that everything wasn't alright, but she would give Harry comfort in her last moments._

_The door burst open, and Lily spun around, fear in her eyes._

"_No," she whispered. "Please don't kill Harry…"_

"_Step aside, you silly girl," Voldemort hissed, granting Snape his request to spare Lily's life. It was a pity the girl didn't join him when he requested her and her husband in his ranks. They were so talented, unlike his other idiotic Death Eaters, even though the girl was a Mudblood._

"_Not Harry, please no don't kill him, take me, kill me instead —_" _Lily was panicking now. She would do anything to convince Voldemort to spare her son's life. She didn't want to live if Harry had to die._

"_This is my last warning —_" _Voldemort hissed impatiently. Even with such a good spy as Snape, he was not going out of his way just to grant him his request. If the girl was standing in his way, he will have no qualms about killing her to get to her son._

"_Not Harry! Please ... have mercy ... Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything..._" _Lily begged. Her son, her only son…_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

_Lily's eyes clouded over as the green light hit her in the chest._

_Voldemort stepped over her dead body and towards the child. He stared at the boy. What's so special about this boy? Could he really have such power as to defeat the Dark Lord himself had Voldemort not kill him now? Voldemort smiled sadistically. Well, then, this was a pity. The boy could've been a great addition to his ranks, just like his parents would've been. He raised his wand to the boy's forehead. "Goodbye, Harry Potter. Avada Kedavra!" The next thing he knew, unbearable pain shot through his veins…_

Eight years later…

Today was, by far, Harry's worst day ever.

As soon as Harry was released from school, he ran as fast as he can before Dudley and his gang can catch up with him. Suddenly, he was jerked backwards, almost making him fall, by Piers Polkiss, Dudley's best friend. The bully held his arms behind his back. "Hey, Dud! Get over here! I got him!"

Dudley wobbled over, panting from exertion of having to run across the grounds to beat Harry. He grinned stupidly, his eyes malicious, before punching Harry in the ribs.

Harry coughed, the wind knocked out of him. His eyes watered, but he didn't bother to struggle. He knew that if he just let Dudley have his way with him, he'll eventually tire and leave him alone. As Dudley continued to use him as a punching bag, Harry looked up through the pain and noticed a small crowd watching him. No one would help him of course. No one was his friend. They were too afraid of Dudley's gang. It was a humiliation for him, but sometimes he wished someone would stand up for him.

Harry knew his appearance also played a factor in his isolation. Wearing Dudley's old clothes, he was wearing clothes ten times his size. His glasses were broken and held together with scotch tape. He was skinny, and if anyone sees him changing, they'd see his skin stretched over his ribs. They'd also see scars that he had received from abuse by his relatives. Of course, Harry was careful to not let anyone see him changing. There were a few things he loved about his appearance though. For one, the lightning shaped scar on his forehead made him feel distinguished, somewhat special. He also loved his bright green eyes – eyes that made teachers stop in mid-sentence, amazed at the color, when he looked at them; eyes that were like beams of light on the background of his thin, pale face…

It was a rarity that Dudley and his gang ever caught him like this. Normally, he could outrun them…Harry closed his eyes. He had already learned to accept his lot in life. He was practically starved by his relatives. They abused him, isolated him, and pretended to the public that he doesn't exist. He lived in a cupboard under the stairs. He learned that there was no point in wallowing in self-pity. It did him no good.

As Dudley tired, Piers let go of his arms, and the two boys left, laughing and leaving Harry curled up on the ground, trying to catch his breath. Harry gave a mental sigh. Oh, well…his life was better than most. He had a roof over his head. He went to school and was at the top of his class. Most of his teachers adored him, and he learned more than most kids his age because he spent most of his breaks in the library to avoid Dudley and his gang.

Harry got to his feet and stumbled towards the Dursleys' house. As he walked into the house, his aunt immediately descended upon him and told him to weed the gardens and then make dinner. He only responded, "Yes, Aunt Petunia." As he worked in the gardens, sweat trickled down his neck from the afternoon sun. It was almost summer. Harry always hated the summers. He didn't have school to allow him escape from the Dursleys' abuse.

"Eight years," he whispered, yanking a weed out of the ground. Eight miserable years.

Working in the gardens gave him a lot of things to think about. His aunt and uncle always told him his parents died in a car crash, his father was an unemployed drunk, his mother was a prostitute, etc. Harry assumed that he had received his scar during the crash, but he always thought it strange that there was a burst of green light. Where was that light from? Car's headlights weren't green.

After weeding, Harry went inside to clean up and make dinner. As always, when he's doing his chores, his mind wandered to other things. Normally, by rote, Harry could avoid burning the food. However, today, after Dudley had beaten him up and the ache in his muscles from doing the gardening work, the worst thing happened to him. A burning smell permeated the kitchen before Harry realized what was happening, his eyes widening in horror, and turned off the stove quickly. His heart pounded away in his chest as he waited for the inevitable to come.

Uncle Vernon, who had arrived home a few minutes ago, rushed into the kitchen as fast as his fat body allowed him, roaring, "What did you do, boy? Are you trying to burn our house down?"

Harry flinched and cowered away slightly. "I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon," he whispered. "I'll clean up and cook another meal."

His uncle turned a deep shade of purple – which signaled his uncle was VERY angry. Of course, his uncle was always angry with him some way or another – whether it's because he had better grades than Dudley or because he just plainly existed. "You…you…"

Harry didn't really understand why his relatives normally got angrier when he apologized. After all, it was the right thing to do – which is why he kept doing it despite his apologies making his relatives angrier. Maybe it was because they think he made too many of the same mistake and, therefore, his apologies weren't sincere?

His uncle approached the boy, who took a deep breath and was determined not to show fear in the face of his uncle's intimidating figure. But of course…Harry's attempt at bravery failed, and he ended up trembling uncontrollably under Vernon's malicious gaze. Harry knew he made a mistake in letting his mind wander while cooking, but he also knew he did the right thing in apologizing and offering to rectify his mistake. Therefore, he knew his uncle was in the wrong. It was this knowledge that made living with his relatives bearable.

His uncle cuffed him and roared, "You think your apologies can make up for the burnt food? It's a waste! Not to mention our house could've burned down!" He grabbed Harry's hand and slammed it down on the hot stove.

Harry hissed in pain, his eyes watering. When his uncle finally let go of his hand, Harry leaned against the counter and slid to the floor, breathing heavily.

His uncle appeared satisfied and said cruelly, "Make us another dinner, boy." With that, he left the kitchen, leaving Harry on the floor. He did not see the tears that ran down the boy's cheeks as Harry hung his head to hide them. Quite frankly, though, he wouldn't care.

Harry stood up slowly and went to the sink, running cold water over his burned hand. He had treated worse burns; all this was like routine to him. After several minutes of the treatment, he wiped his cheeks on his sleeve and returned to the stove to attempt to make dinner for the second time that day. He wondered for a brief second whether he really was a bad person inside if fate had felt he deserved all this. With that, he realized with horror what might have made him deserved the Dursley's treatment…was it possible that HE was the one who caused his parents' deaths? Had he been crying loudly in the car? So much that his father was distracted, sending him and his mother to their deaths?

Harry clenched and unclenched his burnt hand. He deserved the pain. "Mom, Dad, I'm sorry…" he whispered.

During dinner, Harry's emotions were becoming turbulent within him. As he made his way to his aunt with a frying pan of food to dish some out onto her plate, he jumped in shock as the food just exploded into the air. His aunt shrieked and grabbed the pan from him, trying to whack him with it but missed as his quick reflexes allowed him to duck under it.

However, he wasn't as lucky as Vernon grabbed him by his neck, nearly strangling him, who was almost as shocked by the food explosion as his uncle was. "WHAT HAPPENED?" his uncle roared.

Harry stuttered, "I-I don't know! I swear I don't!"

"I'M TIRED OF YOUR FREAKISHNESS! FIRST YOU TRIED TO BURN OUR HOUSE DOWN! THEN YOU MADE FOOD EXPLODE!" His uncle was turning red again. Then he dragged his nephew out into the hall, still keeping his hold on the neck. He pushed Harry up against the wall.

Harry knew what was expected of him and, without a word of complaint, he took off his shirt. He quietly dropped it beside him and stood facing the wall, his hands pushing against it to stabilize him. He closed his eyes as the first lash of his uncle's belt hit his back. He only breathed deeply, like an inward hiss. Still, he made no sound. He deserved this – he kept telling himself that. Soon, however, the pain caused him to drop to his knees, his eyes clouding over as he slipped into unconsciousness.

So angry was Vernon that he stomped on his nephew's chest trying to wake him up. He didn't even pay attention to his wife, who was trying to stop him from killing the boy. "THIS FREAK DOESN'T DESERVE TO LIVE UNDER OUR ROOF!"

"Vernon, please, you'll be put in prison for murder!"

That stopped the man, who stepped away from his nephew, breathing heavily. He grabbed the boy, opened his cupboard door, and threw him inside, locking the door.

…

Outside, Minerva McGonagall was watching the scene with horror in her cat form. She had decided to check up on Harry tonight as part of her monthly routine. The cruelty displayed left her shaken. He had been about to murder the boy! With a pop, she apparated to Hogwarts front gate. She rushed inside and straight up to Dumbledore's office.

"Professor Dumbledore," she said, approaching him, trying to remain composed and poised.

The elderly wizard looked up from a transfiguration book and smiled at his deputy headmistress. "Ah, Professor McGonagall, surely you should be sleeping at this time of night?" he asked gently.

McGonagall took a deep breath. "They nearly killed him, Albus."

Dumbledore froze and paled slightly before asking calmly, "Please explain, Professor."

"I saw them. His uncle beat him to within an inch of his life," McGonagall breathed. "Harry Potter."

Dumbledore stood up, and for the first time, McGonagall was afraid of the Headmaster. Normally, Dumbledore always exhibits an air that made everyone comfortable around him. However, now was not the case. His face was thunderous, and his twinkling blue eyes lost their twinkle. His voice was calm, yet so cold that there was a drop in temperature in the room. "Lead the way, Professor." He was the most shocked in all his life. Disbelief filled him. He had depended on familial duty to protect the young Potter. That was apparently a mistake. He had thought being with his aunt and uncle would be the best for Harry. That was also a mistake. He had known the boy was neglected, but never abused so terribly.

The Dursleys never expected what hit them. Petunia was the only one of them who seemed to care the slightest that Harry was on the verge of death. After all, even though she was jealous of Lily for her magical powers, she didn't hate her sister. She felt a duty to at least look after the boy of her blood. Therefore, after Vernon and Dudley went to bed, Petunia went to Harry's cupboard and began cleaning and wrapping his wounds.

She had only finished cleaning his wounds when she heard a knock on the Dursley's front door. Who would be coming at this time of night? She stood up and answered the door. What she saw made her pale. Never had she been so scared, looking at the figure of an angry Albus Dumbledore.

The Hogwarts headmaster spoke calmly, yet he exhibited a cold and deadly air, "I would like to see young Harry, please. And do wake your husband, if you can." Despite the words, Dumbledore did not make a request – only an order.

Petunia trembled before rushing upstairs to wake her husband. Grumbling about being woken up at an unreasonable hour, the beefy man went downstairs with his wife. What he saw woke him out of his half-sleep state. "Who are you? I demand you leave, Sir!" he growled aggressively. However, Dumbledore didn't even blink.

"I would like to see Harry Potter, please." Again, it was not a request.

Vernon paled. However, Petunia gestured weakly at the cupboard under the stairs.

McGonagall stiffly pointed her wand at the door, which burst open to reveal an unconscious, half-naked Harry with bloody, raw wounds that glistened in the dim lighting. The elderly professor clasped a hand over her mouth, gasping in horror. "No…"

Dumbledore crouched down and brushed Harry's bangs out of his eyes gently. His eyes became wet, and he blinked away the tears. "My boy, my poor, poor, boy," he whispered. Sleeping, Harry looked like a lamb, one that was beaten for no reason other than its existence. Dumbledore couldn't help but admire Harry, who had bore such misery with such strength. Although his plan hadn't gone as he would have liked, it had accomplished its purpose. Harry's heart was prepared…

He picked up the boy and turned to Professor McGonagall. "Take him to Potter Manor, Professor. Tell the house elves to take care of Harry. But tell them to tell him nothing about the circumstances of his parents' death and Voldemort. He is not yet ready for such a burden." Dumbledore handed Harry's body over to McGonagall, who held the boy gently. "I will be there later to cast the Fidelius Charm over the estate." After McGonagall apparated, Dumbledore turned towards the Dursleys, his eyes cold.

Vernon gathered together his courage and growled, "We did not want him in the first place!"

"He was family," Dumbledore said quietly. "Yet you did not do as I had asked. You did not treat him as a son. I did not expect as much of course, and it was a good thing that you did not do so, or else, you would've inflicted on him the same, greater damage that you did on your own son." He narrowed his eyes dangerously. "And yet, there was one thing I did not expect – you being prepared to murder him." He raised his wand at them, and the Dursleys cowered. "I would suggest you think about your actions toward an innocent, defenseless boy. He could've been a great gift to you." He flicked his wand and left the house, saying softly, "Experience his experiences as your own. They will haunt you, and perhaps then you could learn sympathy."

After his departure from the Dursleys, he arrived at Potter Manor, gave directions to the house elves, and then proceeded to cast the Fidelius Charm.


	2. Harry, You're a Wizard

**Harry, You're a Wizard**

Harry opened his eyes blearily. He shifted his body and hissed as pain shot through his back. As soon as the pain subsided, he tried to make sense of where he was. He was lying face down on a very soft, not to mention huge, bed. His back was wrapped in long strips of bandages. "Where are my glasses?" he muttered to himself.

"Master Harry, sir, don't move!" came a squeaky voice. It was high pitched, yet filled with concern and worry.

_Master? Since when do I have a maid or a butler? _Harry blinked before requesting awkwardly. "Can I have my glasses please?" Immediately someone gave him his glasses. He put them on, and shock temporarily stopped his system as he stared at a short creature with floppy, bat-like ears and a pointy nose. It was wearing some sort of a fancy towel.

"Master Harry, sir, you're awake! Holly is so happy that you're okay!" The creature bowed, beaming at him.

"What are you?" Harry asked, still staring apprehensively at the strange creature. Then, realizing his question was probably too rude, he repeated, "Who are you, I mean?"

"Sir, I am Holly, the house elf. Holly has served the Potter family for several years now, Sir, and she is so glad to have Master and Mistress Potter's son in her care!" She seemed so eager and excited that Harry didn't have the heart to tell her that he had no idea what she was talking about.

Harry had no idea where he was, why he was here, or really anything.

"Holly, do not bother Master Harry! He had just awoken! Master Harry, please do forgive Holly. She is young and does not know how to be a good house elf." Another creature similar to Holly rushed into the room, carrying a tray on which there was a bowl of broth, crackers, kiwi, and a cup of orange juice. She placed it on the table next to his bed.

"Mother, Master Harry is so quiet!"

"Holly, it's disrespectful to talk to other house elves when your master is in the room!"

Harry was so confused – what was he supposed to do in this situation? "Erm, it's okay…" Both house elves were listening to him intently, as if trying to hear if there was an order in his voice. "No, really, I'm fine!"

Suddenly the older creature, Holly's mother, suddenly burst into sobs. "Oh, Master Harry, forgive Milly. She had forgotten to explain to you why you are here! Oh, what would Master James and Mistress Lily say if they were still alive? Oh, what would they say had they found out that Milly has failed them in keeping their son safe?"

Harry, even more shocked still, was at a loss as to how to stop the strange house elf from crying. Desperate, he just said the first thing that came to mind, "Milly, it's okay! Stop crying!"

Immediately, she clammed up, his orders being her most important law.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Um, it would be nice if you can tell me what's going on here. I was so certain that a few moments ago I was in the Dursleys' hall. They would've stuffed me in the cupboard though, not put me here."

The house elves' eyes, which were like tennis balls, widened even more in shock. "Those terrible people!" Milly gasped in horror. "Master Harry sleeps in a cupboard? That's unbelievable, sir! Such cruelty! You are in good hands, Sir, now! This is your room!"

"My room? In where?" Harry looked around, sitting up carefully to avoid hurting himself too much. He observed the room with disbelieving eyes. He was sitting in a king-sized bed with soft, blue covers made out of the finest silk as far as he could tell. His bed's canopy was made out of a dark blue transparent fabric that fluttered at the slightest wind.

The room was huge, as large as the first floor of the Dursleys' home. Three large wardrobes were lined up against the wall, a drawer was opposite his bed, and a full-length mirror stood in the corner. On the left side of the room, thick velvet curtains partially covered two glass doors that opened out into a beautiful balcony. There was no way that this was Harry's room.

"There is no way this is my room," Harry protested in disbelief.

Holly, in her enthusiasm, grabbed Harry's hand and tried to pull him out of bed. "But Master Harry, sir, you are the master of this house!" Immediately, she let go of Harry's hand after her mother shot her a look of horror, shock, and anger. "Please forgive me, Master Harry, sir," she said quietly. "Do give me the proper punishment."

"WHAT?" Harry suddenly felt more tired than he had ever been in his life. "Could someone just tell me what's going on here?" he asked, frustrated. He calmed down when he saw both elves cowering against the wall; they reminded him of himself just yesterday. "Sorry," he said apologetically.

Milly burst into tears. "Master Harry apologized to lowly house elves. Such a kind, great wizard he is!"

Harry stared. "Um, okay…maybe if I sleep, this will all turn out to be some crazy dream," he muttered to himself. However, Holly grabbed his hand again, slightly bolder when Harry hadn't told her to punish herself.

"But Master Harry, your family would really like to meet you!"

"M-my family," Harry stuttered, sitting up immediately and wincing from pain.

"Yes, Master Harry, sir!"

"Take me to them," Harry whispered, struggling to get out of bed. Milly assisted him, eyeing him carefully and with concern as he limped across the room.

"Master Harry, perhaps you should stay in bed until you fully recover…" she said tentatively.

Harry shook his head, and that was that. He followed the young house elf as she led him downstairs. He was limping badly, but he wanted to see his relatives so badly – relatives other than his uncle, aunt, and cousin. Did he really have a family? Then why wasn't he sent to his other relatives instead? Why was he sent to Vernon and Petunia, who hated him and wanted nothing to do with him?

Holly led him to two oak doors before saying happily, "They're in here, Master Harry, sir. They have been waiting anxiously since three days ago when you came here. This is the dining room."

Harry nodded wordlessly. Then he leaned against the doors slightly and went inside. Holly did not follow him. He looked around, confused. There was a long, hall-length dining table with no less than fifty chairs…but where is his family? Suddenly a voice made him jump.

"My boy, what has happened to you?"

Harry spun around and stared, gaping. Behind him was a three foot high portrait of an old man and woman. They were both wearing magnificent robes. The old man had a short white beard, thin face, and dark brown eyes. He looked as if he wasn't quite sure that it was Harry who was standing in front of him. Next to him was an elderly lady. Although she was old, Harry could tell she must've once been really pretty. Gulping, Harry gathered up his courage to ask, "Um, who are you? And were you talking…to me?"

The portrait _moved_. The old man glanced at who was supposedly his wife before saying, "Why, Harry, I'm your ancestor – Ignotus Peverell."

"My ancestor?" Harry's head tilted as if he was trying to see if the portrait was actually a TV screen. "Er, how are you moving in your painting?" he asked cautiously.

"Magic," Ignotus replied simply, smiling at him. "You are a wizard yourself, Harry. I suppose your relatives didn't inform you that. You are the heir to a very ancient wizarding family."

Harry blinked before shaking his head and pinching himself. "This must be a dream. Sir, I can't be a wizard…"

"But you are – my last living descendent, a wizard just like the rest of your paternal family and your mother," Ignotus said gently.

"Are you really –? I mean, are you really my ancestor in this portrait?" Harry asked hesitatingly, trying to take everything in.

"No, no," Ignotus laughed. "The dead cannot remain on earth. The portraits you see in this hall are pictures of my direct descendents and their spouses. They do not contain a piece of their souls or anything of the like. They are merely 'echoes.' However, due to the circumstances at which these portraits are created, their memories should be very accurate up to a few days before their subjects' deaths. Their personalities will be nearly perfect replicas of their subjects as well. I would love to keep you waiting, but I think I would be correct in assuming that your parents are very anxious to see you. They are at the other end of this hall."

Harry nodded. "Thank you." He began his long walk to the other end of the hall. He was nervous. Would his parents be angry at him, disappointed? He had caused their early deaths after all. As he walked past portraits of his other relatives, he was blushing furiously out of embarrassment as they observed him.

"Oh, my, I can't believe that my nephew is so thin! He must've been starved at his old place!"

"Look at his hand! If I was still alive, those Muggles would've had a piece of my mind!"

"He looks as if he had been beaten to within an inch of his life! For the attempted murder of a defenseless child in my time, those idiotic Muggles who aren't worth hippogriff dung would've been executed!"

"When I was a child, my aunts and uncles never raised a hand against me!"

Harry finally reached the end of the hall where he looked up at a portrait of a man who looked nearly identical to him and a woman whose eyes were replicas of his own. His breathing sped up. His parents looked so…perfect. He couldn't believe that they were there, in front of him – echoes of their real selves. "Mom, Dad?"

His father smiled at him and said softly, "You have no idea how much I want to hold you in my arms, Son." Unlike many of the witches and wizards in the hall, James Potter wore more modern, Muggle clothing. So did his mother.

Lily nodded. "Don't ever forget how much we love you."

Harry gulped. "So you aren't mad at me?"

"Mad?" His father looked to his mother, confusion written clearly in his eyes. "Where did Harry get such harebrained ideas from?"

"Wait, so I didn't cause your car to crash that night?" Harry asked tentatively, relieved.

"Car crash?" Lily asked, even more confused than her husband.

"Why drive a car when you could Apparate?" James snorted. "It's faster, more efficient, cheaper, and it doesn't pollute the environment. I don't think I've ever driven a car in my life. Sirius had a motorcycle, but a car? How uncool can you be?"

"Wait, how did you die then?" Harry asked, curious.

Lily hesitated. "Harry, we are only copies of ourselves. Our memories only went back to a few days before our deaths. We do not know exactly how we died. We have theories, but we are not certain."

Harry nodded acceptingly. "So, erm, I don't really understand what's going on here..."

James huffed. "Should've expected as much with Lily's sister being the great hag that she is."

"James!"

"Sorry, Lily."

Harry grinned. It wasn't hard to see that Lily had James wrapped around her pinky.

Lily turned to Harry. "But anyways, Petunia might not have told you, but you are a wizard."

"Yeah, and you should be a pretty darn good one!" James asserted proudly. "You did accidental magic when you were but a few months old!" Seeing Harry's confused look, he added quickly, "You did magic without meaning to. You'll learn to control it though after you get your wand and go to school and stuff."

"There's a wizards' school?"

"Of course! Where do you think we go to school, Son?"

Harry fell silent. "I really am a wizard then?"

James and Lily nodded firmly.

"Um, who, what were those house elves?" Harry asked anxiously.

James chuckled. "Ah, they are servants to the family, Harry. Enslaved is more like it, but don't worry. It feels awkward, but they like it. They like to be enslaved, and as a suggestion, you might not want to free them. They go berserk if you do. All you have to do is give them clothes. Lily made the mistake the first time, and the house elves were pretty upset and insulted by her. It was alright in the end though. Just be kind to them, Harry. They want nothing more than that."

"Why was I sent to my aunt's and uncle's instead of here?"

Lily shrugged. "We don't know, Harry. We didn't know anything that has happened to you over the last few years until three days ago, when McGonagall and Dumbledore brought you here. They're two teachers at Hogwarts – the wizarding school."

Harry nodded. He supposed he'll find out everything in time.

James clapped his hands. "That reminds me. There is a huge library in this mansion. It contains more books than Flourish and Blotts and Tomes and Scrolls added together! That library should answer most questions you have about the Wizarding World. Holly or Milly can show you there and give you a tour of the place. They can also assist you to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade if you need to go shopping. Also, stay away from Knockturn Alley. It contains a lot of supporters of the Dark Arts. If you're really curious…" his voice trailed off. "At least take Milly or Holly with you so that you wouldn't get hurt or something. But, Harry, know that the Dark Arts is not a branch of magic to trifle with."

Harry nodded again. He'll take his dad's word for it.

….

Three years later…

Harry was reading in the library again. He had read nearly all the books and was happy to say that he probably knew more about the Wizarding world than most pureblood wizards and witches. After all, his parents' stories combined with his ancestors' are worth centuries of knowledge. Ironically enough, today, he was searching on how to remove the Trace. He had to pay nearly twenty galleons for the old tome from Borgin and Burkes – _The Ministry's Control._ Harry, of course, had been keeping his family's library up-to-date.

"Hmm, I need to make a potion," Harry muttered thoughtfully to himself. "So basically I have to trick the Trace by aging my magical core. That would have consequences that I'm not keen on receiving though." He shook his head and flipped to the pages containing the theory behind the Trace. Since the Trace was a Charm, surely there was a way to dispel it. "I wonder if Finite would work…" He laughed. Certainly the Ministry wasn't that dumb. Then he stopped. _Certainly the Ministry wasn't that dumb…_ He smacked his head. The Ministry would expect that all underage wizards and witches would simply _accept_ the fact that they can't perform magic out of school.

Harry grinned. He went back inside his bedroom and flipped over the full-length mirror. One side shows him physically; the other side shows any trace of magic on him. He frowned when he realized that there was no magic on him. Then he sighed. "How can I be so stupid? The Ministry doesn't keep track of pre-Hogwarts students!"

With that, he went back to the library to read something else. The removal of the Trace was a project he had set for himself ever since his dad told him that he and Sirius had been trying to figure out a way to remove it since they were eleven. "I wonder if they ever thought about using Finite."

Suddenly an owl landed outside his library window. He opened the window, took the letter from the owl, and smiled when he recognized the Hogwarts crest. Immediately he told his relatives and began preparing for his departure on September 1st.

On that day, he was quite nervous. His relatives had insisted on seeing him that day – to see how much he had grown since his time at his aunt and uncle's. His enlarged trunk was packed, and he was wearing his best robe before Holly led him into the dining room. He swallowed before walking inside. As he made his way to his parents on the other end of the room, he found his apprehension drained away and replaced with happiness.

"Oh, my, he's grown into a handsome boy!"

"Such a charming face from his father and such beautiful green eyes from his mother!"

"He's going to be a Quidditch star, I tell you! Such a sleek person should be a Seeker!"

"Girls will be swooning over him one day. He's such a quiet, thoughtful boy. He'll charm the most hard-to-get witches."

"Bright mind and a brave, loving heart – what else can you look for in an heir?"

Harry blushed slightly from all the compliments. He knew that after a few years of proper nutrition and treatment, he had filled out, his ribs no longer showing so prominently. He was still sleek and strong though, training for Quidditch ever since he learned about the game. He was no longer deathly pale and gaunt either.

He grinned as he reached his parents. "Hi, Mum, Dad," he said. He had revered and adored his parents even more ever since he discovered the circumstances of their deaths (from reading). They had sacrificed their lives for him ever since he was a baby. It didn't take long for him to realize how he had survived the Killing Curse. Love. After talking to his parents and finding out about Sirius and Pettigrew, he did research on what happened to his godfather and was horrified at what happened to the good man. Ever since then, he was determined to get enough evidence to prove Sirius innocent.

Lily smiled lovingly at him before saying, "We're so proud of you."

James nodded, muttering under his breath, "Now if you could only become an Animagus before fifteen…" For that, he received a sharp jab in the ribs by Lily. He winced before correcting himself, "Just kidding, son."

Harry couldn't stop from laughing slightly, "Don't worry, dad. I'll become an Animagus – just like you."

"That's my son!" James grinned triumphantly at Lily, who rolled her eyes.

However, Harry knew it made no difference whether he became one or not because his parents still looked at him with pride in their eyes. After several more moments of lingering around his relatives, Harry changed into Muggle clothing and departed for King's Cross.

**Please review! It would be nice to have some feedback from my readers. **


	3. A Snake in Lion's Skin

**A Snake in Lion's Skin**

**As a note, I've originally decided to make Draco and Harry friends (as said in my profile). Now, that seems too hard as I can't get Draco to stay much in character that way. Therefore, Malfoy's just going to stay mean until the next time I changed my mind.**

Harry approached the platform smartly and stepped right through the barrier. He enlarged his shrunken trunk, owl cage, and phoenix perch before heaving them all into the luggage compartment of the train. The Hogwarts Express really was a beauty. Harry had never seen a train before, and this was a thriller for him.

Harry sat down in an empty compartment and watched the kids say goodbye to their parents. A pang of longing hit him. The portraits of his parents can never substitute his real parents – not even close. As if reading his mind, Harry's snake familiar slithered out of Harry's school uniform sleeves and seemed to rub its head against Harry's hand. Harry smiled and, as always, never failed to give the snake affection, petting it on the head.

Harry had found the king cobra in the Magic Menagerie in Diagon Alley, imported from India. The longest venomous snake in the world (besides the basilisk of course), it could be very aggressive. However, Harry, who spoke Parseltongue, had no qualms about taking it on as a familiar. It was just another one of his projects with different animals and magical creatures. "_Look at them, Sasha. They're so happy."_

"_You should be, too. After all, your parents loved you with all their hearts. The fact that you are alive is a reminder of that love every day that you live." _Sasha was 18 feet long and weighed 17 lbs. Wrapping herself around both of Harry's arms and chest underneath his school robes, she was quite heavy on the eleven-year-old. However, Harry had taken her along with him into the compartment because she was the only inconspicuous familiar he has, and her heavy, yet comforting, weight eased his mind greatly.

Harry closed his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. _"The Wizarding World isn't always kind, Sasha. And that scares me."_

"_A hero doesn't need to be fearless. In fact, he should know and understand fear so that he can be human and sympathetic to those in need. A hero should know fear, and yet, still do what he thinks is right, despite opposition."_

Suddenly the compartment door opened, and Sasha immediately pulled her head back into Harry's sleeve. A blonde boy and his two thickset bodyguards burst in. "Oh, sorry," he said, not looking sorry at all. "I thought this was an empty compartment." With that, he sat down across from Harry without another word and the other two sat on either side of him. "My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Harry forced a smile, although he could feel Sasha shaking with irritation at their rudeness. "Harry. Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you, Draco."

Draco looked as if Harry had just slapped him. "I prefer it if you use Malfoy. No one calls me Draco except my family."

Harry's smile wavered a bit. Was this boy trying to be unpleasant? "My apologies, Malfoy." His mind immediately ran over everything he knew about the Malfoy family. They were very rich and influential. His father, a former Death Eater, had avoided Azkaban after the fall of Voldemort by claiming to be under the Imperius Curse, which Harry highly doubted due to the fact that the Malfoys were huge on blood purity. However, Harry can't bring himself to hold a grudge against Draco. After all, he wasn't even born when his father became a Death Eater.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Draco asked.

"Well, I supposed someone has to be, right?" Harry asked with light sarcasm. "Do you ask that question every time someone tells you their name?"

Draco's pale cheeks turned a light shade of pink. "Just checking, Potter. With your fame and all, you should get used to that question. No one just believes that they have met the Boy Who Lived, or whatever they call you." He took a breath to get his cool back before drawling, "So, are all of your family our kind?"

Harry closed his eyes. This boy really was insensitive, and he was getting under Harry's skin. Taking a deep breath so as to not lose his temper, Harry replied almost coldly, "Both my parents are wizard and witch. My mother was a muggle-born; my father was a pureblood. That makes me half and half."

"You really are a half-blood?" Draco asked, his expression both a mix of disdain and surprise. "Then how could you have survived the Killing Curse?"

"I don't know. If you haven't noticed already, I was barely one year old when Voldemort came after me." Harry took great pleasure in Draco's flinch when he said Voldemort's name. He, of course, knew how he survived, but there was no way that he was going to disclose it to this pompous brat. "Besides, I bet anyone can do it." _If their parents are willing to die for them that is, _Harry added sadly.

Draco gaped at him before saying coldly, "You better watch your back, Potter. You never know when someone is going to shoot a Killing Curse at you just to test out what you said. And I seriously doubt you can survive it a second time. The first time was probably just luck."

Harry glared. "So you really want to downplay Voldemort's power?" He couldn't believe it. Never had rage so filled him. Draco was practically downplaying his parent's sacrifice. Sure he didn't know, but there was no way Harry could stand for this. "Can you explain then how he was destroyed that night? Luck can only get me so far. How then was he destroyed?" Harry smiled inwardly. Love was such a simple answer, yet it destroyed the most powerful Dark wizard of the age. When Draco fell silent, Harry whispered, "I think it's time for you to leave."

Taking the cue, Sasha slithered into full view – her entire 18 feet. She reared back, opening her hood, and then opened her jaws wide, showing an terrifying display of glistening fangs and a black forked tongue. _"Leave now, young Malfoy. You are no longer welcome here."_

Terror flitted across Draco's face before he and his two goons stumbled out of the compartment in fear. Harry chuckled darkly before petting Sasha gently. Huffing in irritation at the encounter, she wrapped herself again around Harry's arms underneath his robes. Without even noticing, as Harry turned his attention to the passing landscape, a tear rolled down his cheek as he grieved his parents.

….

As they walked up the stairs toward the Great Hall, Harry had his first meeting with Professor McGonagall. Immediately, he felt a fondness for the witch, remembering that it was her who helped him to Potter Manor and rescued him from a life of misery. Despite her strict expression, Harry knew she was a good person who cared for him. Maybe it was just her connection to James and Lily and perhaps their relationship is just a mentor-student relationship, but Harry could nevertheless feel gratitude and respect for the elderly teacher.

As the woman began her speech, Harry listened intently. As she disappeared into the hall, Harry heard whispering all around him, discussing how the Sorting will be done and what houses they'll be sorted into. Quite frankly, he really didn't care much. Each House had their ups and downs.

"Has anyone seen Trevor, my toad?" asked a slightly chubby boy to Harry's right.

"_I'll find it for him,"_ Sasha hissed, eager to help. With that, Sasha shot out of Harry's sleeve, shocking several people around them. She weaved in and out smoothly between people's legs before shooting straight at a toad, grasping it between her jaws.

"Trevor!" Neville cried. "No, no, Trevor! Don't eat him!"

Sasha, not understanding his panic, slowly slithered to the boy and disposed the toad in his hand.

Harry beckoned Sasha back into his sleeve before consoling Neville. "Don't worry. Your toad's not dead. It is purely in shock. Sasha can control her fangs by will. No venom was injected into Trevor. I swear that to you." After he said that, there was whispering all around him. All were looking at him in fear.

"T-thanks," Neville stuttered.

"No problem," Harry replied gently, smiling.

After that incident, Professor McGonagall came from the Great Hall and showed them inside, "We are ready for you, now." They all followed her into the hall, apprehension on each of their faces. "Now when I call your name, you will come up and put on the Sorting Hat." With that, the Sorting ceremony began.

"Harry Potter!"

Harry ignored the whispers from his classmates as he made his way to the Sorting Hat.

"He'll be in Slytherin for sure! Did you see the size of his snake?"

"I thought you're not supposed to have any other familiar besides the ones listed on our letters!"

"He had so much control over the cobra – as if he understood it and vice versa. How many good wizards do we know of that can do that?"

Harry took a trembling breath before taking a seat on the stool. He looked to McGonagall, who gave him an encouraging smile before placing the hat on his head.

"_Oh, this is difficult – very, very difficult. Intelligent, loyal, clever, and brave. All the Founders would've prized you as their favorite student. You have been through much misery, and yet, you are still pure of heart. Although you believe that you don't have the capabilities, if necessary, you would not hesitate to do anything, even risk your life, for your love ones. This is due to the fact that you have lived for so long without receiving love."_

Harry shifted uncomfortably. Having someone go through his head was quite disconcerting.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry's eyes widened. Gryffindor? He knew his parents were from Gryffindor, but he didn't thought he was brave or reckless. He was afraid when Uncle Vernon towered over him, intimidating him. He was afraid when Dudley captured him. However, his musings were cut short when McGonagall pulled the hat off his head. There was a cheer throughout the Great Hall, and he walked over to the Gryffindor table. As he sat down next to an older red-headed boy, he looked up to the teacher's table, his eyes meeting Dumbledore's blue ones. The Headmaster raised his chalice in his direction, smiling kindly.

Harry grinned back, remembering Dumbledore had also been there with McGonagall when they took him from the Dursleys. After the Sorting, Dumbledore gave a few words and the feast began. He was starving and therefore filled his plate with a bit of everything.

"Hey, Harry, do you really have a snake?" someone asked to his right.

Harry nodded. He lifted his sleeve slightly, revealing a sleeping Sasha coiled around his arm. Several Gryffindors reared back, shock written across their faces. Then someone said tentatively, "Are you sure you're in the right house?"

Harry shrugged. "Sasha is really nice, you know." He frowned when no one believed him.

Someone else asserted aggressively, "He's a snake in lion's skin! The Sorting Hat must've made a mistake."

"Oh, honestly, people, he's in Gryffindor now. We can't change that. Besides, so what if he had a snake for a pet?"

"You're muggleborn, Granger, so you might not know this, but every dark wizard came from Slytherin, and his symbol is the serpent!"

"That doesn't make logical sense though. Some muggles keep snakes for pets, and they're not all bad."

"They're not wizards!"

Harry closed his eyes, no longer hungry.

"You know, I'm willing to bet that You-Know-Who came after Potter because he was afraid of him becoming a more powerful dark wizard!"

Harry took a deep calming breath. For years, he had no friends because his classmates were afraid of Dudley. Now, they were afraid of him – just because he had a snake for a familiar. He wasn't completely surprised by their reaction since he did know that Slytherin's symbol was a serpent and that Voldemort came from the Slytherin House. However, he hadn't wanted to hide himself, and therefore, their reaction towards him hurts. They didn't even know him completely yet.

Sasha had woken up due to the commotion and, feeling Harry's emotions, rubbed her head against his hand comfortingly. _"Be patient. Soon, they'll know. You'll just have to be the more mature than them."_

Harry nodded slowly, pushing his food around. This wasn't really the best way to start the school year. "I guess I'll just have to prove myself different from their assumptions. I guess that's better than having them fawn over me because of fame for something I didn't do."

….

Harry rushed into Snape's classroom, panting slightly. It was a good thing the teacher wasn't there yet. Harry knew about Snape and his father from James's stories, but he also knew about his mother's relationship with him. Lily had asserted that she still cared for him even though they separated in school – Snape and Lily had very different opinions regarding the Dark Arts. Afterwards, they never talked again, but it's hard to forget your first wizard best friend. Lily wasn't sure if Snape still cared about her though.

Harry supposed he'll have to see the man's personality for himself. The last thought he had before Snape burst through the doors was – Why did Dumbledore hire Snape if Snape had supported Voldemort? Certainly the greatest wizard of the age wouldn't make such decisions…unless he had a very valid reason to trust Snape.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape began. "I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry was quite intrigued. He had a feeling that Snape knows his subject very well.

"Would Mr. Potter, our celebrity, care to tell us what you will do if you get poisoned and you don't have time to brew an antidote?" Snape sneered coldly.

Harry was surprised at the obvious coldness Snape was directing at him. He sure knew how to hold onto grudges. "I'd rush to your cabinet, pull out a bezoar, and swallow it, sir," Harry said plainly, not sure if that was the answer Snape wanted.

Snape leered, hiding his surprise at Harry knowing about bezoars. "What would you have done if it wasn't in my cabinet?"

"Since Hogwarts doesn't have goats, I'd have to conjure one and take the stone out of its stomach, sir."

"Would you care to show us how you would conjure a goat?"

"I would hardly think it's appropriate to conjure a goat in the classroom, sir."

After a silence, Snape said, "Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Mr. Potter." Was it just Harry or did Snape say 'Potter' as if it left a nasty flavor in his mouth? After that, the class went on with Harry wondering what to do about Snape. He certainly didn't like the man, but it would make his life so much easier if Snape doesn't take his anger at his father out on him for the next seven years of his life.

After class, Harry decided to do the dumbest thing he could ever think of. He lingered back and approached Snape, his heart beating quickly. He was going to regret this – he knew. "Sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter," Snape said, looking up stiffly. His eyes met Harry's, and for a brief second, something flashed in his eyes before Snape looked away.

"Potions seem like an intriguing subject," Harry began slowly. "I was wondering if…perhaps you can give me remedial lessons? I feel that I may need them." It was one of the most exaggerated lies he's ever told. Apparently, his mother was a prodigy in potions, and he had inherited that skill (if that was possible) according to her portrait when he tried his hand at brewing some simple concoctions over the summer.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Why do you think I have time for that?"

"I'll work hard, sir."

Snape actually considered it – perhaps he could torment the Potter spawn while having the lessons. That just presented too good of an opportunity to miss. "Very well, Mr. Potter. Meet me in this classroom every night at eight starting next week. Do not be late." He couldn't believe the nerve of that boy – Potter _smiled_.

…...

Harry couldn't believe his luck. All he had tried to do was get Neville's Remembrall back, and he got put on the Quidditch Team. How lucky can he be? He had hated the last several days during which he couldn't fly a broom. He had been flying for the last several years and quite loved the feeling of being in the air.

Harry also couldn't believe it when Professor McGonagall got him a Nimbus 2000. He was starting to feel really fond of the Transfiguration mistress. As for the Gryffindors' admiration of his flying abilities, well, he was quite optimistic about gaining their trust. At least they don't outright ignore him and whisper behind his back anymore.

Harry glanced at the time – it was eight o'clock. He stood up from the dining table and made his way determinedly to the Potions classroom. He knew Snape had sounded too eager for someone who had set his mind out to hate him. Snape was going to make him squirm all night probably. But of course, Harry was determined for this man to set aside his grudges. When he arrived, he knocked slowly.

"Come in," came the snapping order. Snape didn't sound to be in a good mood.

Harry opened the door and approached the Potions Master tentatively.

Snape was grading papers, and there was a whole load of them. However, his mind seemed preoccupied. "There are a few hundred aconite plants in the cupboard. Wear gloves. Pick the flowers from the leaves since only the flowers are used in potions while the leaves are highly toxic."

Harry frowned. It seemed more of something he'd do in detention than a lesson. However, he wasn't going to argue. He put on gloves before beginning the tedious job of separating the flowers from the leaves and stems of the plants. "Sir, what is aconite used in?"

"Wolfsbane Potion. I assume you know what it is?"

"It helps a transforming werewolf retain control over his or her actions, sir."

Snape paused in his grading. He looked up, regarding Harry for a moment. "Tell me, Mr. Potter. How did you know about such an advanced potion when you have been here for not even two months?" he asked, wincing inwardly as his indirect compliment. However, he was terribly curious. Perhaps Harry inherited a talent of potions from Lily? After all, James Potter had no talent nor interest at all towards potions.

"I studied a lot, sir. I heard my mother was good at potions, so I wanted to try my hand at it, too, and tried a few simple potions at home."

Snape stared at him, their eyes meeting for several seconds, before saying quietly, "Continue your work, Mr. Potter. I will test your hand at potions tomorrow evening to see where you stand."

Harry's heart gave a leap. Snape was thinking about actually doing this seriously…and only on the first night? It was better than he had hoped for.

"However, you will need several ingredients to brew tomorrow's potion. Dry the nettles. Crush the snake fangs. Both are in the storage room. Also, we'll be using porcupine quills. Tell me. Do those ingredients sound familiar to you?"

"We'll be making an herbicide potion, sir."

Snape's lips twitched. "That is correct. How did you know that we'll be brewing an herbicide potion and not a boil-cure potion? Both uses dried nettles, snake fangs, and porcupine quills."

"Sir, I assumed that you would've asked me to stew some horned slugs if we were going to do the boil-cure potion." Harry could barely keep the excitement out of his voice.

"You assumed…correctly." Snape shivered. He would've never said that to James Potter, but when looking into Lily's eyes in Harry, it made it easier. After all, he should be fair somewhat regarding the Lily side of Harry. It was the only part of Lily he had left now – even if Harry was a constant reminder of his failure to gain Lily's affections. He had been so close!

"Professor?"

Snape was snapped out of his musings and, without looking up, gestured to a box next to him where Harry placed all the potions ingredients he prepared. "Be here at eight tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

After Harry left, Snape turned to inspect the prepared ingredients. When he did, a tear made its way down his cheek. There was only one other person in his memory at the age of eleven who could have the nettles so perfectly dry, the snake fangs so perfectly crushed that it was almost like a flaky powder, and the aconite flowers so delicately separated from the leaves.

…..

Harry knew something had changed after that incident. The next day when they were working on a boil-cure potion in class, Snape had hovered over Harry's potion, which was pink as its final color. After several seconds, he said emotionlessly, "Give your potion to Madame Pomfrey. She might want it."

Ron, who was next to him, whispered to him after Snape left, "Blimey, did he just compliment you? You're a Gryffindor!"

Harry only smiled, and his smile turned into a grin when Snape called from the other side of the room, "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, for distracting Mr. Potter from his work in class." He found the situation hilarious – except for the points taken. He glanced at Neville next to him and stopped him. "You might want to take the cauldron off the fire before you add the porcupine quills, Neville. Or else, the cauldron will melt."

Neville nodded his thanks before nervously taking his cauldron off the fire. The boy was terrified of Snape and was glad for someone to watch his back for him.

After class, since Harry was the last to leave the classroom, he could've sworn he heard Snape mutter under his breath, "Five points to Gryffindor for preventing a mess in my classroom."

Of course, that made people more suspicious of him being wrongly sorted since he was on civil terms with the Slytherin Head of House, who was known to favor only his own house, but quite frankly, Harry was too happy with his success to care.

**Please review!**


	4. A Gryffindor at Heart

**A Gryffindor at Heart**

**Some people were asking me how Ron is friends with Harry already. Um, well, the thing is…he isn't. He's just in the background, making comments – like classmate to classmate you know. Yes, Ron is actually afraid of Harry and his snake like the rest of the school. Harry's position in school at this point is complicated. Being a Gryffindor, he's the natural enemy of Slytherins, so you can't expect them to like him. Bringing a huge venomous snake to school would isolate him from the rest of the houses, who were scared of him becoming an evil wizard. It's not the best position to be in although I would like to tell you guys that it's very safe to assume that Harry is at least on civil terms with the people on his Quidditch team – perhaps not best buds but on civil terms.**

"Now, everyone, remember the swish and flick movement that we have been practicing!" Professor Flitwick demonstrated the movement, saying, "Repeat after me – _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Harry raised his wand and made a lazy swish and flick movement, saying easily and calmly, "_Wingardium Leviosa_." The feather levitated into the air, and Harry controlled it absentmindedly.

"Well done, Mr. Potter!" the tiny professor squeaked, impressed. "I'm surprised at you. And on your first try, too! That is a lot of control you have there!"

Harry blushed at the praise. He knew he wasn't too bad at Charm work. Practice makes perfect, and he had used the levitation spell numerous times already. He loved learning new spells and had worked ahead of everyone else. "Thank you, Professor," he said modestly. "But I had worked ahead, so this wasn't my first try," he confessed honestly.

The class stopped to stare at him. "You worked ahead?" Ron squeaked, seemingly horrified that someone was actually doing extra work.

Harry smiled. "It's always good to do so. You never know when you'll need it. Plus, I like to learn for knowledge's sake."

Professor Flitwick seemed even more pleased and squeaked out, "Well, Mr. Potter, regardless, that was impressive control for a first year. Five points to Gryffindor! Please see me after class, Mr. Potter!"

After class, Harry approached the short wizard apprehensively when to his surprise, Flitwick only levitated a large tome down from the shelves. "Now, Mr. Potter, don't think for a second that I don't notice your talent in charms. Your mother was very talented as well. She was a very powerful, bright witch. One of my best students. I always said she should've been in Ravenclaw with her thirst of knowledge and all." He handed Harry the tome, smiling. "Here is the complete theory behind charmwork all the way to advance level. There are some more advanced spells in there as well if you really want to work ahead. This is…light reading as they say." Flitwick stepped off his stool and waved Harry to the doors, following him out. "Consider it something to nurture your love and talent of Charms. After all, I want you to experiment with your magic."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry made a note to buy a copy of the tome the next time he went to Diagon Alley.

Flitwick nodded cheerfully and walked off in the opposite direction as Harry. "Keep up that attitude towards learning, Mr. Potter, and you'll do well in life."

Harry smiled. Professor Flitwick was one of his favorite teachers. He was always kind to him, and his laid-back style of teaching allowed Harry to experiment with his magic. As he left for Gryffindor Tower, he overheard Ron saying, "She's a nightmare I tell you! She kept correcting my pronunciation in class. It's no wonder why Granger doesn't have friends!"

Harry frowned when he saw the subject of the conversation rushing away towards the girls' bathroom in tears.

"_It's no wonder why Potter doesn't have friends!" Dudley sneered, glancing at Harry who was reading in the school library. "Look at him. His head's always buried in a book! It's like he's going to marry the thing!"_

_His gang sniggered._

"_Hey, Potter, are you going to marry a book since you'll never get a girlfriend?" Piers called to Harry, who tried to ignore him. "Hey, Dud, I think you forgot a few other reasons why Potter doesn't have any friends!"_

"_What?"_

"_He's an eyesore to look at! His clothes are ten times his size, and he looked as though he hasn't combed his hair for years! It's like a living nightmare walking through the school!" There was more laughter. That was why no one wanted to be his friend or even associate with him. After all, no one wanted to be teased too._

Harry blinked away the tears. Even here at Hogwarts, he still hadn't had any friends. He supposed it was partially his fault for bringing a venomous snake to school. It was also his fault for not being the most outgoing of people. He was bookish and preferred to observe and listen rather than talk. He never had anything he'd want to talk about. Most of his life is something he'd rather keep secret from people. Oh, well. There's not much he can do about it.

That evening, Harry kept a lookout for Hermione at the Halloween feast. He was actually a little worried about the girl when she didn't show. After all, who would be that upset to miss a celebration in the Great Hall? As he concerned himself with the witch, the doors of the Great Hall burst open, and Professor Quirrell rushed inside, screaming, "Troll! Troll in the dungeons!" When he fainted, the students began to panic.

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore's voice boomed throughout the hall. "Prefects, lead your house to your dormitories and finish the feast there. Teachers, follow me."

It felt as if cold water was rushing through Harry's veins instead of blood. Where was Hermione? She didn't know about the troll. Without a second thought, Harry rushed towards the dungeons, not stopping even to catch his breath. Suddenly, he stopped cold, sniffing the air. There was the foul smell attributed to trolls.

Ignoring his fear, he followed the smell to the girls' bathroom in time to see the twelve-foot mountain troll walking inside. Thinking quickly, he shut the door, letting out a sigh of relief. However, his blood turned cold again when he heard a shriek. "Hermione," he breathed. How could he have been so stupid? He rushed inside to see Hermione cowering against the corner of the wall.

Harry gulped and trembled at the sheer size of the troll. Up close, it was much bigger than he originally thought. Its club was huge; it would crack open his skull without problem. Fear froze him, and he couldn't move. It was only when he saw the club about to slam down on Hermione and her fear, greater than his own, that he was shaken out of his own fear. _A hero doesn't need to be fearless. In fact, he should know and understand fear so that he can be human and sympathetic to those in need. A hero should know fear, and yet, still do what he thinks is right__. _Adrenaline rushed through him as he acted on instinct. He whipped out his wand and shouted, "_Impedimenta_!"

The club stopped temporarily, and Harry rushed towards Hermione. "Go! Run! I'll hold it back for as long as I could!" Harry nearly cursed when he discovered that she was paralyzed with fear and couldn't move. She could only stare at the troll in horror. Harry grabbed her and forced her to her feet, trying to push her towards the door. "GO!" he roared. He wasn't sure if he could defeat the troll with its skin being spell repellant. He could only hope that she could get the teachers in time. To his frustration, however, Hermione only clenched onto his arm. Realizing that he had to calm down and think straight, Harry took a deep breath and pointed his wand at the troll, ready to fight. His other arm held onto Hermione, and he turned so that his body was shielding hers. _"Sasha, I need you!"_

His snake shot out of his sleeve, hissing. At eighteen feet, she was longer than the troll was tall. She was also faster and smarter. However, if the troll catches her, there was no doubt that Sasha's death will be certain. Weaving between the troll's legs, she slithered onto the troll's shoulders, hissing menacingly at its face to distract it. Her fangs were too brittle to pierce the troll's thick hide. However, her intimidation techniques had their desired effect, and the troll's attention was drawn away from Harry and Hermione. It allowed Harry time to think.

"_Reducto_!" Harry cried, pointing his wand at the troll's club. The club exploded into hundreds of wooden shards. Harry protected Hermione from the flying projectiles by covering her with his body. He winced as several lodged themselves into his arm. It wasn't deep, but he was definitely bleeding. He quickly hid his arm in his sleeve. That was one threat down.

The troll tried to yank Sasha off, and the snake had no choice but to abandon her spot on its shoulders. Still hissing menacingly, she stayed between Harry and the troll.

"_Bombarda Maxima!_" Harry cried desperately, not sure of any other spell that would work against a troll. He could've tried to cast a reducto curse into the troll's nose or mouth, but with Hermione hanging onto his arm, that was out of the question – he couldn't get a good enough aim.

A huge explosion blasted in front of him, sending the troll back through the wall of the bathroom and into the next wall, successfully knocking the creature unconscious.

Sasha slithered over slowly, and after making sure Harry was okay, she again hid herself under Harry's robes.

Harry panted slightly, slightly dizzy. He had just fought with a mountain troll…and survived. Smiling, he gently shook Hermione. "Hey, it's okay now."

Hermione finally came out of her stupor. "Is it dead?" she asked tentatively.

Harry shook his head wearily. "Just knocked out. Come on. We're finishing the feast inside the common rooms." The thought sounded great to him at the moment.

Suddenly several teachers arrived at the door of the bathroom, gaping at the mess. Professor McGonagall saw Harry still in position from shielding Hermione and gasped, "Mr. Potter, what has happened here?"

Hermione was about to respond, but Harry cut her off, still smiling gently. "Hermione felt sick and wasn't at the feast, and so she didn't know about the troll wandering around the dungeons. I remembered her coming here and, when I saw the troll enter, I followed to make sure she gets out safely. It didn't turn out that way, and she ended up saving me."

Hermione gawked. Why did Harry lie and give her all the credit?

McGonagall seemed stunned and could only gasped, "Well, it's not every day that first years can take out a full grown mountain troll on their own. Ten points for you, Miss Granger, for your quick thinking and five points to you, Mr. Potter, for your bravery. Now, why don't you two go up to your common rooms and finish the feast?"

"Yes, Professor."

As they exited, Hermione turned to Harry and asked, "Why did you say it was me?"

Harry grinned. "I didn't feel like taking the credit." Quite honestly, he never liked attention on himself. In a way, he was being selfish, but it was worth it to save himself the embarrassment.

Hermione widened her eyes before whispering, "Thank you for coming. I would've died if it hadn't been for you."

Harry shrugged. "Sasha did a lot of work, too, you know. If she hadn't bought me so much time, I wouldn't have known what to do." He remembered the fear he felt and had no doubt that he really wouldn't know what to do without the extra time.

Hermione hesitated about the snake. After all, she had learned that snakes were considered evil in the Wizarding World. "Thank you, both of you."

Harry grinned, feeling Sasha swell with pride. "You're welcome."

As they entered through the portrait hole, Hermione seemed to hesitate before turning and enveloping him in a hug. Harry froze in shock for several seconds before relaxing and patting her back. He could feel her sobs, and he could relate to her feelings very well. He had been saved before, and he knew how it felt. He also knew that she was his first human friend, as he was hers.

"Hey, look! Potter's with the know-it-all!" someone yelled in the common room.

"I'm sorry," Hermione muttered and pulled herself from him. "I didn't mean to…we don't have to be friends." To her surprise, Harry pulled her into a hug.

"I don't care what they think," Harry said casually as if what he was saying was simply a fact that everyone should know. "Let's eat. I didn't eat much in the Great Hall." With that, he led her to the food and began to pile things onto his plate, ignoring some nasty sniggers directed towards them. As they sat in the corner, quietly eating, Hermione began to observe Harry.

She honestly didn't know much about him. She knew he was famous. She knew he was studious and earned a lot of praises from his teachers. He was quiet and kept to himself. He was also a phenomenal Quidditch player. However, outside of those, she didn't know much about his personality – though he was brave in rescuing her. However, she knew he was a good person because he didn't care that he was hanging out with someone who was known as a know-it-all. As she observed him, she noticed he was using only his right hand to eat. "Harry, are you hurt?"

Harry stiffened. "Don't worry about it," he replied calmly, avoiding the question altogether.

Hermione hung her head. Boys. It did make her feel guilty though. She knew he had been shielding her from the sharp wooden projectiles and must've been hurt in the process. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "You didn't have to."

"But I did anyway." Harry grinned assuringly at her. "Don't worry. I've been hurt worse. Scout's honor."

Hermione laughed, lightening the atmosphere. "You were a scout?"

"No, but I wish I was – just so I could say that phrase freely and reply 'yes' to that question."

Hermione laughed again before sobering and asked quietly, her bushy hair acting as a curtain to hide her face, "Did you know why I was in the bathroom instead of at the feast?"

"Because Ron said mean things about you." It wasn't a question. Harry had stated it plainly, knowing it was the truth. "I saw and heard the scene." He leaned against the wall and said thoughtfully, "He might not be completely wrong at the time, but he's definitely wrong now." He laid his uninjured hand lightly over hers.

Hermione gave him a watery smile before saying, "Thank you, Harry." Then she asked tentatively, "You're born to wizarding parents, right?"

Harry nodded absentmindedly. Normally, he would've been defensive about it, but at Hermione's tone, he couldn't get angry.

"Does it matter if I'm muggleborn?"

Harry turned to her in shock. "What?"

Hermione jumped before muttering, "Nevermind."

Harry shook his head. "No, I'll answer the question. No, it doesn't matter in the slightest. And I have proof. My mother was a muggleborn, and she was known as one of the most powerful witches of the age. You know about Voldemort and his blood purity thing?"

Hermione nodded.

"My mother was so powerful that he overlooked her muggleborn status and asked her to join him, which she refused. So, no, it doesn't matter if you're muggleborn or not. Is that why you're always trying to be a 'know-it-all' as people calls you? So that you can prove your worth in the wizarding world?" Harry asked, surprised.

Hermione was surprised that he reached the conclusion and connection on his own. "Well, kind of…" she replied sheepishly.

Harry shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

His words were assuring. Hermione believed him. After that conversation, Hermione knew him to be one of the kindest people she's ever met. As he went to bed, Hermione could only admire him more when she saw the price he had to pay to save her. Dried blood could be seen coating his left hand and creating a pattern that extended all the way up his arm. Before she could stop him however, he was already up the stairs.

…..

Harry pulled back his sleeve, hissing in pain. The sharp wooden shards were still embedded in his arm. Sighing, he picked them out, wincing each time. "Ferlin," he whispered, glancing around to make sure his dorm room was empty. Immediately a beautiful phoenix appeared in flames on the perch by his bed. "Hey, boy," Harry greeted, brushing his fingers through the phoenix's feathers affectionately. "I need your help." He painfully showed Ferlin his injured arm.

Immediately Ferlin blinked tears onto Harry's wounds, healing them immediately.

…..

Before they mounted, Oliver Wood turned to Harry. It surprised him that Harry didn't even look nervous – just excited. "Nervous, Potter?" he asked, trying to calm his own nerves more than Harry's. He was more nervous about his new Seeker than the Seeker was. Sure Harry was a phenomenal flier, but still…he was really young.

Harry grinned. "Don't worry about me, Oliver. Fred and George are like two bludgers themselves. They'll protect me well enough."

Next to him, Fred and George snorted indignantly.

"Well enough?"

"You gave us…

"…way too little credit, little Potter!"

"Have you ever…

"…gotten hurt at practice with…"

"…them nasty bludgers?"

"We're going to…"

"…protect you phenomenally!"

Oliver rolled his eyes before muttering, "Whatever. Just make sure they don't come close to my Seeker." With that, they mounted and flew into the air.

Quidditch was, Harry believed, the greatest stress reliever. As he flew around, searching for the snitch, he enjoyed the wind blowing through his already messy black hair and his Quidditch robes fluttering all around him. Flight was a gift from the sky, Harry had decided. He felt like the master of the air since he had such control over his Nimbus 2000.

His sharp eyes, although needing of glasses, caught a flash of gold and off he shot like a rocket, his hand reaching forward to grab the tiny gold ball. However, to his shock, his broom started bucking him off. He was a few stories high in the air and no doubt there would be a lot of blood if he fell off. "What the -?" he hissed.

Down in the stands, Hermione was staring in shock at Harry's loss of control. "He's never lost control of a broom before!" she hissed. "Why now of all times?" Searching the stands, her eyes landed on the teachers – two of which were staring unblinkingly at Harry. Her logic began to kick in immediately. She knew Professor Snape favored Harry out of all the Gryffindors – although that's not saying much considering he hates anyone who isn't in his house – and almost seemed to enjoy mentoring him sometimes.

Professor Quirrell, on the other hand…Harry had always expressed dislike and suspicion towards the DADA teacher because he said that since Quirrell "had such an excess of stuttering, either he doesn't know what the crud he's teaching or he's afraid of his own subject." Therefore, according to Harry's logic, since Dumbledore hired such an incompetent teacher (which the Headmaster would not do on purpose unless he has a good reason, such as wanting to keep an eye on him), "Quirrell must be some dangerous person who pretends to be weak and frail and whom Dumbledore wants to keep an eye on." Usually, Hermione would deny such accusations out of respect for her teachers, but in this case, she'll go with Harry's logic.

With that, she rushed towards the teacher's stand. "_Larcarnum Inflamarae,_" Hermione whispered, and a small fireball shot out of the tip of her wand, lighting up Quirrell's cloak.

The focused professor soon noticed a burning smell and tried to stamp out the flames.

Hermione laughed silently after making sure that Harry got back onto his broom safely. After all, it was quite entertaining seeing Harry's would-be murderer trying (unsuccessfully) to put out the flames.

Harry, after climbing back onto his broom, flew after the snitch. Within seconds, he landed, raising the golden ball into the air, grinning proudly. His popularity was about to hit the charts – at least with the Gryffindors, maybe Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, too. He really doubt he was going to be in the good graces of the Slytherins though. After escaping from the celebration later that night, Harry approached Hermione, who hissed angrily, "You were right! Quirrell was jinxing your broom. He might really be dangerous!"

Harry seemed thoughtful before he grinned mischievously. "Hold that thought. I think it's time we check out the third floor corridor. Let's see how dangerous this school really is!"

"Harry, are you mad?"

"So what if I am?" Harry replied coolly. "Dumbledore's mad, too, and he gets away with it."

"But at the beginning of the year, Dumbledore told us not to go wandering there!"

"Don't tell me you're not a bit curious, Hermione!"

"No, I'm not!"

Harry sighed. "Fine. But I want to go visit the Forbidden Forest before we're out of school."

"WHAT?"

"Just kidding, 'Mione." Harry chuckled. "But you know, we are supposed to be Gryffindors, where dwell the brave of heart!"

"Harry, we are NOT breaking a billion rules just so you can prove that you're a true Gryffindor!"

"I told you, 'Mione! I was kidding!" Harry had a full grin plastered across his face now, and Hermione couldn't help but return it. However, he sobered after a while and said calmly, "Don't worry though. As long as Dumbledore's in the school, Quirrell won't try anything – at least anything obvious."

**Please review!**


	5. The Creation of a Hero

**The Creation of a Hero**

**This story isn't a Harry/Hermione pairing although they'll be really close. Like I said in the profile, it'll end up with him being with either Luna, Daphne, or Fleur. I'll make sure to keep you guys guessing until the end just cuz I'm evil.**

After the Quidditch victory against the Slytherins, Harry could feel his popularity rising. It was phenomenal. One day, people were approaching him with wariness and caution; the next day, he was greeted with congratulations, pats on the back, and admiration. However, he was still the same old Harry who hated too much attention put on him. He still spent most of his free time in the library or in the common rooms. He still went to Snape's "remedial" lessons after dinner each night (even though the strict professor was already having him learn how to brew an Invisibility potion, which was third year level). He still went to Quidditch practice each morning. He still spent quite a lot of time by himself just observing people and what they do through uninterested but attentive eyes, listening to conversations and watching their reactions toward each other.

Before he knew it, Christmas was approaching. Both Hermione and Harry returned to their respective homes with Hermione promising Harry that she'll spend the rest of the holidays with him after Christmas Day. He had asked Dumbledore if they could transfer the role of Secret Keeper to him, and the Headmaster readily agreed. It was an odd feeling being home. Potter Manor was large with the only living company being house elves. The portraits could never substitute real, living, breathing people; the holidays had emphasized that fact.

On Christmas morning, he had not expected any presents. However, he was delightfully surprised when two school owls had appeared, pecking his window early in the morning. He let them in and relieved them of their packages before offering them some owl treats and water. Then he picked up a basket, a smile lighting up his face when he recognized Hermione's handwriting on a card inside. Beside the card was a large box of muggle chocolates. He put the chocolates aside before reading Hermione's card:

"_Merry Christmas, Harry. I hope to see you tomorrow."_

He turned to the next present and opened it to find a silvery cloak. Confused as to whom the sender was and for what reason he was sent a fancy cloak, Harry searched for a note, which was anonymous and only told him to 'use it well.' He shrugged, but he really was curious how he was supposed to use a cloak 'not well.' He tried the cloak on, and nearly jumped out of his skin when everything below his head disappeared. "Woah…neat!" he exclaimed. "I can get used to this."

As he put his presents away, he wondered how Hermione liked the present that he sent to her last night.

…

Hermione looked out her window to see Hedwig tapping it with her beak, a wrapped gift in her talons. Knowing it must be Harry's Christmas present, she let her in. It was hard not to notice that Harry owned the only snowy owl in the school. "Hey, Hedwig," Hermione said, smiling and relieving Hedwig of her lightweight package. "Can you thank Harry for me?"

With an affirmative hoot, Hedwig flew out of the window the same way she came in. Hermione looked at her present curiously and began to unwrap it. Then she took a sharp inhale. If she wasn't fooling herself, it was a phoenix-feather quill.

…

The next day, when Harry arrived at Hermione's doorstep, he hesitated before he knocked. He was quite nervous. She was about to be the first human he ever allowed inside Potter Manor.

The door opened, and his vision was covered with bushy hair as Hermione lunged herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck in a near suffocating hug. Harry let out a laugh at Hermione's enthusiasm, his nervousness having evaporated. "It's good to see you, too, Hermione!" he said through his laughter.

"It's really good to see you!" Hermione said, finally stepping away from him. "Thank you so much for your present! It's beautiful."

"You're welcome. Thank you for your gift, too. I wasn't expecting any presents, so it surprised me when an owl arrived at my window with a present yesterday." Harry glanced behind her and asked, "Did you finish packing and everything?"

Hermione nodded excitedly. "Harry, how will we be travelling there?"

Harry pulled out a small bag around his neck. "Floo network. I got Dumbledore to intercede to the Ministry on my behalf to temporarily connect your house to the network. Of course, we'll need to use your parents' fireplace." Carefully shaking the snow off his robes, Harry stepped into the house. "Have you ever used the floo before?"

Hermione shook her head.

"You might want to warn your parents so that they don't freak out when you burst into green flames and disappear," Harry said, his eyes shining with mirth. After Hermione did so, he pulled her next to the fireplace, poured a bit of floo powder into her hands, and said, "Just throw it in and say the place you want to go to. It's just Potter Manor. I'll show you." He stepped into the fireplace, threw the powder onto the hearth, crying out, "Potter Manor!" Bursting into green fire, he disappeared.

Hermione was in shock before stepping inside and doing the same thing. The next thing she knew, she was on the floor of Harry's house, covered in soot and ash.

"Sorry, Hermione," Harry said, chuckling. "I should've warned you." With that, he offered his hand to her and pulled her up. "Come on. Let me introduce you to my family."

Hermione widened her eyes. "Wait, I don't mean to be offensive or anything, but I thought your parents are dead?"

Harry smiled patiently, pulling her towards the dining room. "Oh, the only family I have left is my aunt and uncle, but they're really mean, so I moved here. Don't worry. My parents are dead, but I have the next best thing."

Hermione only looked at him in confusion until she saw what he meant when they entered the dining room. "Oh, Harry!"

"Oh, my! My boy, who is this lovely young lady?" Ignotus asked, smiling at Hermione. "It has been such a long time since we've had visitors outside the family. Welcome to Potter Manor! My name is Ignotus Peverell, and may I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

Hermione blushed. "My name is Hermione Granger, Sir." She observed his mannerisms and realized that some of his personality and physical characteristics were very similar to Harry's. He had a thin face, and his white hair was slightly messy. It wasn't as messy as Harry's, but the messiness is obvious. In addition, he seemed very modest and humble, if his speech and expressions are anything to go by. "Harry, this is wonderful!" she said, looking around the room.

Harry nodded. "It's the closest I'm going to get to the real thing." He looked up at Ignotus with something akin to admiration in his eyes before saying to Hermione, "Hermione, do you know who Ignotus is?"

"No, Harry. Do tell me," Hermione urged. She knew Harry was about to reveal part of his life to her – something he very rarely does.

Harry took something out of his robe's pocket and opened it up, revealing that it was a cloak. "This is an invisibility cloak," he stated simply. He grinned when Ignotus seemed to blush in embarrassment. "But it's not just any ordinary invisibility cloak. It's THE invisibility cloak. It will never wear with age, nor will the enchantments on it ever wear off. In the 1200's, Ignotus created it. He and his two brothers, according to legend, meet up with Death, who wanted to "reward" them for escaping his grasp once. One of his brothers asked for the most powerful wand in the world and Death gave it to him. The other asked for a stone to bring back the dead, and Death gave it to him. Can you see the problem with this, Hermione?"

Hermione's eyes widened as she understood the implications. "They're really vain, and the objects they asked for of Death were only meant to bring them more power and glory." She had never seen such admiration radiating from Harry's eyes as he looked towards his ancestor – except perhaps when he spoke of his parents.

"Yeah. Ignotus, in his wisdom and humility, asked for only an invisibility cloak. The brother with the powerful wand, known as the Elder Wand, picked fights with people and was unbeatable, bragging about his unbeatable wand. One night, someone killed him in his sleep to take his wand. Death claimed him. The brother with the Resurrection Stone brought back the one he had hoped to marry, but since he could only bring back a ghostlike spirit of hers, he killed himself to be with her. Death claimed him. However, Ignotus never asked for fame or glory, so he lived a long life, beginning a family and living a peaceful life. Then, when he felt that it was time to die, he made sure the last thing he did was pass on the invisibility cloak to his son. Then he took Death by the hand as if he was a friend. Ignotus's line continues until this day, his blood running through my veins." Harry put on the cloak and he disappeared, startling Hermione. He laughed and took it off. "Of course, that's just a legend. Ignotus told me that the legend was close to the real story, but not quite. Everything was right except that the brothers actually created the three items, known as the Deathly Hallows, themselves."

"Harry, those items are really powerful. How could they have created them?" Hermione asked dubiously.

Harry frowned slightly before replying, "They were the three most powerful wizards in the world, Hermione. They decided to create the Hallows and that was what they did." Then he grinned again when he turned to Ignotus. "I found the story out just yesterday when someone sent me the cloak as a Christmas present, saying that it had belonged to my dad and now belongs to me. But the real reason I admire Ignotus was not because he was really powerful…" He brushed his cloak affectionately. "…I admire him because despite his power and potential, he created the modest invisibility cloak. And as it turned out, he lived the happiest, fullest life out of all the brothers. It shows that power does not mean happiness. It's how we use our powers that really matter and our humility not to flaunt our powers around."

Hermione felt that she was probably the only one who had ever seen this side of Harry. She felt that she finally understood many of his actions and why he did them. Harry valued humility and modesty. That was why he was so quiet and kept to himself. In fact, now that she thought about it, there was only one occasion where Harry did display some sort of arrogance – the first time was when he talked back to Professor Snape about conjuring a goat in the classroom. Even during class, whenever he did a spell, he was simply doing his duty as a student. He never flaunted. He might have shown pride such as when he caught the snitch, but he never flaunted. Then there was also that time when he gave her all the credit of defeating a troll.

"They say that whoever unites all three Hallows would become the Master of Death," Harry said thoughtfully. "Truthfully, I'm just happy to have the invisibility cloak." He noticed that Ignotus had a glint in his eyes, but he didn't understand it.

"Harry, that's impossible," Hermione began. "It's just a legend anyway."

Harry smiled. "Yeah. I guess you're right. C'mon. Let me introduce you to my parents." With that, they excused themselves from Ignotus and went off towards the other end of the hall.

Ignotus smiled at their retreating forms before whispering to himself, "My child, the Master of Death is not someone who gains immortality."

…...

Hermione stood in front of a barely furnished room. Harry had gone to sleep already, but told her she could explore the manor if she wasn't sleepy yet. By chance, she stumbled across this room. A large stone bowl was mounted upon a column of stone in the center of the room. Strange runes were engraved into the stonework, and a whitish light from above shone onto the strange, yet intriguing column.

In the bowl were swirling, silvery substances. Hermione, by nature, was very curious as to what this mysterious thing was. She walked up to the bowl and looked inside, cautious, knowing that unknown magic was not something to trifle with.

She found herself in a moderate house, much smaller than Potter Manor. In front of her was a young boy – not much older than seven. Harry was wearing clothes way too big for him, and his glasses were broken and taped. He was really thin and pale, his green eyes being the only things that showed any expression of life in them. Hermione felt her heart go out to him. He seemed so endearing with his innocent, kind expression. His appearance was an eyesore, but his personality definitely wasn't.

"Where am I?" she tried to ask the younger version of Harry. However he didn't answer her, as if he couldn't hear or see her.

"Boy!"

Hermione jumped. A big beefy man was approaching them, and Hermione found herself cowering from him. However, the man didn't seem to even notice her. Harry, she could see, was trembling in fear, his voice shaky as he replied, "Yes, Uncle Vernon?" Hermione could never have believed that this boy is her friend. He seemed so skittish compared to the Harry she knew, who was often calm and collected.

"Did you finish your chores, boy?" the man growled aggressively.

Harry seemed to quiver even more as he replied softly, "No, Uncle Vernon."

What happened next shocked Hermione. Harry's uncle punched him in the face, and Harry's head collided with the wall. Blood trickled down the side of his face, and Harry seemed dizzy as he tried to sit up.

"You worthless freak! I expect you to do your job around here!" his uncle snarled. He grabbed Harry and pulled him by his hair to his feet. He slammed his nephew's face into the wall. "You know what to do, boy!"

Harry obeyed, taking off his shirt, and then leaned against the wall. He rested his forehead against the wall as if to take comfort in its cool temperature. He placed his hands on either side of his head to steady himself as he tried to gain footing on his shaking legs. Hermione was quite shocked to see his pitiful state. He must've been starved and beaten on a daily basis if the prominent ribs and scars were anything to go by. To her horror, Harry's uncle took out a studded belt and began to beat his nephew. As blood trickled down his back, Hermione looked away, not able to watch the torture of her friend. Why was his uncle still going? Harry looked as if he was about to collapse. Hermione felt that the silence was worse than if Harry would just scream. However, Harry took everything without a word of complaint, even as tears of pain ran down his face, mixing with his blood.

Hermione could feel her heart tearing up. She understood now. These were Harry's memories. How could Harry have survived such treatment?

The scene changed. This time, Harry was outside his school, backing away from a gang of thickset boys who had him cornered. Fear was evident on his face as he tried to figure a way out. However, he was soon grabbed by a boy who held his arms behind his back. As a fat boy landed his first punch on Harry's stomach, Hermione gasped. Harry let out a small whimper on the first hit, but after that, he never uttered another sound.

A crowd was gathering around to watch, and Hermione could tell Harry was embarrassed and humiliated. No one stood up for him. In fact they were whispering, pointing, laughing, and sometimes calling out mean things to him.

Hermione couldn't bear to hear the insults; they reminded her too much of how she was treated in school. Instead, she concentrated on Harry's face which was twisted in pain. So he was tormented at home and in school…It was amazing how he grew up to be the Harry she knew. She would've thought that since Harry only knew cruelty in his life, he would've turned out to be a bully like his uncle and cousin. However, he didn't. How did he survive with his morality intact? Perhaps his suffering actually helped him understand the pain others went through?

The scene changed again. His uncle had come home drunk. His aunt and cousin were obviously not home. "BOY!"

The sight of Harry running towards his uncle on command saddened Hermione. "Yes, Uncle Vernon?" he asked in his quivering voice.

"I need a release, boy."

Hermione gasped in horror. No, his uncle wouldn't really…! Hermione, she herself admitted, was a very sheltered child, but even she understood the implications of what Harry's uncle just told him.

Harry's face twisted into fear before he hung his head in resignation. He followed his uncle into the bedroom, where he obediently stripped down…Hermione turned away. She couldn't take it anymore. She wanted to throw up. With all the willpower she had, she pulled herself out of the Pensieve. Panting, she sat down on the floor, wrapping her arms around her legs. _Oh, Harry…How did you survive?_

"Hermione, are you okay?"

Hermione's head snapped up.

Harry was kneeling in front of her with nothing but concern for her on his face, his hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, are you okay?" he asked again anxiously.

"H-Harry, I'm fine," she stuttered. After he was convinced that she was fine, Harry knelt there, his eyes no longer bright as they used to be.

"Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" she began, hating herself for invading his privacy.

Harry shook his head. His eyes seemed almost dead to her. He offered her his hand and pulled her up. "It's okay, Hermione," he said emotionlessly. He didn't say anything more than that, which confused Hermione, who wasn't sure if he was angry, embarrassed, worried…He only gestured to her to follow him downstairs.

When they arrived downstairs, he motioned for her to sit on the couch, and he went off to make hot chocolate to soothe her. When he returned and offered her a steaming mug filled with hot chocolate, Hermione felt tears coming to her eyes. How was he bearing it all? Usually, such terrible treatment would've at least made the victim nervous, cautious, and many times even suicidal. However, here he was, still calm as always, worrying about her well-being over his own.

"Harry, I'm so sorry!" she cried out, tears spilling over and down her cheeks. She heard him take a sharp inhale.

Then Harry sighed wearily, saying, "Don't worry about it, Hermione. You didn't know it was a Pensieve." Seeing her confused look, Harry chuckled darkly, saying plainly, "A Pensieve holds memories. I know you didn't know it was a Pensieve because I know that if you did, you wouldn't have looked inside."

Hermione widened her eyes. "How do you know that?" she asked shocked.

"Because I trust you."

Hermione stared into his eyes, which were like intense green orbs looking into the depths of her soul. "Why?"

"Because you're my friend." Harry's face suddenly lit up in a smile, his eyes shining once again.

Hermione was speechless for several seconds before she asked, "How did you do it, Harry? Survive the torture and end up like you are now?"

"Dumbledore and McGonagall took me here after my uncle nearly killed me. It took a long time for me to recover – I still have scars, both physically and emotionally, but I was taught and trained by my family, through the portraits. In a way, I guess you can say that I stepped out of the darkness and into the light with the help of my family, who, despite being dead, continue to watch over me. I had to face my fears which were the reason I was using the Pensieve. I eventually learned to just accept my past; I'll never forget it, but I refused to let it take over my life."

Hermione gaped before said quietly, "That's…unbelievable, especially when you hurt everywhere, inside and out."

"Like I said, I had help. I couldn't have done it without support from my family." To his surprise, she pulled him into a hug which was something he still wasn't used to. He had never received a hug before…until, of course, he met Hermione.

…

After the holidays, Harry returned to Hogwarts. One evening, when exploring one part of a corridor, he discovered some strange mirror. Reading over the inscription backwards, he decided to test the mirror out for himself. It was quite beautiful really, seeing his parents there. He wished he could've had real interactions with his real parents though.

"Ah, Harry, how was your Christmas?"

Harry turned around to see Dumbledore there, smiling at him kindly. "It was great, sir. How about yours?"

"It was a very magical day, Harry. I had simply loved it." Dumbledore came to stand next to him, staring at the mirror before asking Harry, "You see your parents, don't you, Harry?" At Harry's nod, the old Headmaster said plainly, "You wish to see them – the real them."

"Yes, Sir. The portrait…" Harry paused. "They're not…they're only shadows. They're good shadows, but they're only shadows."

"That is a good metaphor. Am I safe to assume then, Harry, that when you look into this mirror, because you have found out its secret and that you desire for only your real parents, not copies, you are not easily tempted to waste time in front of the Mirror of Erised?"

"I suppose not, Sir, although I do waste time with wishful thinking."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah, such thinking is shared by all minds alike." After a short silence, he began humming a tune to himself, his arms crossed behind him. Quite frankly, at that point in time, no one must look more aloof and whimsical than Albus Dumbledore. Then quite suddenly – "Have you been enjoying your cloak of invisibility?"

Harry looked at him in surprise. "How did you know about that, Professor?"

"Why, Harry, if someone sent you something, shouldn't the sender know what he sent?"

"You gave me the cloak, Sir?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Your father left it in my possession. Of course, it belongs to you."

Harry stared at him before raising a few questions that had taken hold of him for the last several years. "Professor, why did you of all people move me from Privet Drive to Potter manor?" He was quite curious about that. He didn't even know the man at that age.

"As I was the one who placed you in the care of your aunt and uncle, it would be very fitting for me to be the one to remove you from their care."

"You placed me in their care? Why, Sir?" Shocked, Harry didn't know whether to be angry at the Headmaster or to be patient and listen to what the man had to say.

Dumbledore replied calmly, "I had thought it was the best solution, Harry. They were your last living relatives. Naturally, I knew that they had neglected you, or even emotionally abused you. However, it was my mistake to think that at least, you would be safe in their care."

"But why did you let me stay there anyway then?" Harry asked, frustrated and desperate. "You knew they had abused me to a certain point." He had respected the elderly man for years ever since he learned that he took him from his aunt and uncle. Now, however, he wondered if his respect was misplaced. Dumbledore had definitely not known the extent of the abuse – not even close, but still…he knew there was abuse and neglect.

"Could you imagine what happens then, Harry, if you were raised in a place where the only beings to interact with are house elves and portraits? Can you imagine what would happen had you been exposed to the fame and glory that came with your name since the fall of Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked. Seeing Harry's look of understanding, he nodded. "You were not ready to handle such pressure. Remember, Harry, our experiences change how we see ourselves and the world around us. Such fame and glory from birth would've done great damage to you."

Harry nodded, his frustration dampening slightly as he began to understand Dumbledore's intentions, although he was still upset. "I think I understood, Sir. Such fame and glory is empty anyway…the only reason I survived was because my parents died," he said quietly.

Dumbledore's eyes widened ever so slightly, still twinkling like stars. "Those are some very wise statements, my boy." He was both surprised and very pleased that Harry had reached the conclusion by himself. Harry was, after all, a walking symbol of love himself – a reminder of his parents' love for him. "I assure you, however, that I do not expect you to be happy with me about the arrangements – despite it being the best of my intentions."

Harry shrugged slightly, smiling suddenly. "I'm not, but I guess, in some ways, I can see that it's much better than the alternatives."

Dumbledore turned to him, his eyes showing surprise. "Why do you say that, Harry?" he asked curiously.

"I mean I can't be thankful that I was almost killed," Harry replied carefully. _Or raped._ "In fact, I resent it. But those experiences…I don't really know how to explain it. They're not good memories, but I feel like without them, I wouldn't have learned how truly valuable friendship and family are. I would've taken them for granted. I also would've had a hard time putting myself in other people's shoes, as they say. Like that day the troll got loose around the school, I wouldn't have thought twice about Hermione had she not been teased earlier that day, bringing back memories of my own classmates teasing me. I would've been like everybody else, panicking and forgetting all about her being in the bathroom."

"Ah, that is what we refer to as sympathy. Suffering allows us to sympathize with others in need and in pain." Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "Yes, you and Ms. Granger seemed to be quite close after that ordeal. After all," Dumbledore seemed to pause for a dramatic effect, "it's not every day an eleven year old boy saves her life from a full grown mountain troll."

"Sir, how did you know…?" Harry asked, surprised.

Dumbledore laughed. "There are some things in your account of the troll incident that didn't make sense. After hearing Professor McGonagall repeated your version of the incident to me, Professor Snape made some interesting remarks, such as the position you two were in when you were found. It didn't make sense that you were standing in front of Ms. Granger to shield her from the troll if she had been the one fighting it. And he also noted your bloody hand while Ms. Granger herself had escaped unscathed."

Harry's cheeks turned a light pink in color at his lie being found out. And it was so obvious, too, when the Headmaster pointed out the flaws in it.

Dumbledore gently laid his hand on Harry's shoulder and said, "Harry, it is perhaps time for us to leave this room. The Mirror of Erised will be removed soon, so I would suggest that you not going looking for it even if you are tempted to do so." As they walked out the room, he added thoughtfully, "The desires of our hearts, Harry, can sometimes blind us. It's only when we control and master the desire that we can master ourselves." As they reached the end of the corridor, Dumbledore nodded to Harry. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Sir." Harry watched Dumbledore walk away, the man responsible for the turns in his life.


	6. The Hearts of Lions

**The Hearts of Lions**

**There are several clarifications, I need to make.**

**1) Harry wasn't not upset when Hermione looked into his Pensieve. Just because he didn't explode at her doesn't mean he's not upset. His silence, and more importantly his eyes, after the incident expressed his feelings very clearly. Of course, he wouldn't stay angry at Hermione - she had after all only looked in it on accident.**

**2) James's belief that it's a dishonor to distrust one's own friends played a role in Harry's trusting nature towards Hermione, despite knowing Pettigrew's betrayal.**

**3) The Dursleys did not go unpunished. Refer back to what Dumbledore did at the end of Chapter One. If we think about it, it's a worse punishment than jail or even Azkaban. It's basically 'an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' The Dursleys were submitted to experiencing Harry's experiences as their own. Just because there was no detailed accounts of the Dursleys' punishment doesn't mean that justice hadn't been done to them. If anyone has a more justified punishment, do review. **

**4) Harry learned from his experiences the value of friendship and family not by having 'role models' but rather, by the fact that he had none for years. He remembers the pain of not having a caring family or loving friends; he knows the joy of receiving love and friendship. Such contrast in feelings would teach him to value his family and friends.**

**5) Harry's forgiving nature along with his refusal to kill even the wretchedest of murderers are what makes Harry the hero in the canon. They are his most admirable attributes, and they will be a big part of his personality in this fic. **

**One last note is that while I don't mind flames, at least they could be constructive. The flamer could at least act as if he or she had read my fic before sending the flames in.  
><strong>

Harry frowned in frustration. Then he leaned back on his chair in the library, groaning. "That's it. I'm done for today. My brain is turning into mush," he muttered.

"Harry! You barely studied for a half an hour!" Hermione protested, her voice slightly shrill with concern. "Usually you can read for hours at a time!"

Harry shook his head. "Not today. My scar's been hurting since this morning and I don't know why." He snapped shut his advanced Transfiguration book before pressing his forehead against the cool wood of the table. "Stupid scar. Scars aren't supposed to work this way," he complained.

"Maybe you should go to Madame Pomfrey?" his friend suggested.

Harry snorted. "She'll think I'm crazy. I can imagine it now. 'Hey, Madame Pomfrey! The scar I got from Voldemort eleven years ago is starting to hurt!'" He chuckled at his own joke before he was silenced with a glare from Hermione.

"Harry, this is serious! You're right. Scars don't work this way. Talk to someone about it. Tell Dumbledore if you have to!"

Harry shook his head before lifting his head off the table. His eyes caught Professor Quirrell a few shelves away and muttered, "You know, I've seen Quirrell around a lot today. I'm starting to think my scar hurts because of the stupid turban on his head." He chuckled again. However, Hermione didn't laugh.

"Harry, can't you be serious for once?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.

Harry leaned closer to her before whispering, "Actually, I'm being serious when I say this. I really think that not only is Quirrell dangerous, but there's also a reason that he's here 'teaching.' Not only does Dumbledore want to keep an eye on him, but he's here of his own will for a reason." Harry sat back down and continued to observe Quirrell with a disinterested look on his face.

"You know how creepy you are when you stare at people like that?" she asked uneasily.

"Not really. People tend to ignore me, so they don't even notice when I'm staring at them."

Hermione couldn't deny that why Harry said was true. After the victory against Slytherin wore off, people went back to mostly ignoring (or at least avoiding) Harry's presence. They acknowledged the fact that he was top in their class and was a superb flier. However, outside of Quidditch and academics, Harry was mainly ignored or avoided. Sometimes, Hermione wondered how on the first day of Hogwarts, on the train, everyone was talking excitedly about how Harry Potter was coming to Hogwarts, but then the next day, people avoided him like a plague – just because of a stupid stereotype. And Sasha wasn't even that bad. She was fiercely loyal and protective of her owner, but she was also eager to help others.

When she saw Harry standing up, Hermione stood up with him, gathering all her things, and asked, "Harry, where are you going?"

"Following Quirrell. He's up to something. I know it."

"Are you crazy? He could try to kill you again!"

Harry fixed her with his intense gaze again. Then he said quietly, "Hermione, this isn't about me. This is about a returning danger. I don't know who Quirrell is. However, I received this scar from Voldemort." He pointed to the lightning shaped scar on his head. "If it's hurting, Voldemort must be up to something."

"Harry, Voldemort was destroyed when you were a baby…"

"No, he isn't." Harry had a faraway look in his eyes as he absentmindedly touched his scar. "I can feel it. It's like a connection. If he has a plan, then it will likely involve finishing the job he started on that night – killing me. I don't know why he was after me. I really don't know. But anyway, Quirrell is obviously in on the plan because he tried to kill me. Think about it, Hermione. I didn't even know Quirrell until I arrived here; why would he want to kill me? The only plausible reason is that he was ordered to by Voldemort or at least a follower. Since I received my currently aching scar from Voldemort himself, it only makes sense that he's acting under Voldemort's orders. What if he's planning something to return Voldemort to full power, Hermione?"

Hermione was speechless. Harry's logic was nearly flawless.

Harry shook his head. "No, Hermione. This isn't about me. This is about Voldemort returning to power, or something of that nature. Can you imagine the world under Voldemort's reign? Killing, torture, fear…" He began to head after Quirrell. "I understand if you don't want to come." However, he felt someone grab his wrist. Surprised, he turned to see Hermione beside him.

"Harry," she began. "Don't be stupid. I'm coming with you."

"You know that Quirrell could possibly kill you, too, right?"

"I know."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "You're not afraid?"

"I am, but I'm in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave of heart." Hermione smiled and led the way after Quirrell. Harry shook his head and followed her towards the Forbidden Forest. It was already dark, and the forest never looked more intimidating. "He headed this way," she said, her voice shaking nervously.

Harry crouched down to the ground, frowning with a concentrated look on his face. Then he touched a silvery blue substance on the ground, rubbing it between his fingers. "Hermione, do you know what this is?"

Hermione shook her head.

Harry's voice was grim as he said, "This is unicorn blood."

"Unicorn blood?"

"Unicorns are very pure creatures, Hermione. Unicorn blood will save you, even if you're on the brink of death. However, because you have slain something so innocent to save your life, your life will be cursed the moment the blood touches your lips." Harry seemed to shiver slightly.

"Who could possibly do that kind of thing?" Hermione asked, horrified. Harry's eyes met hers, and she gasped. "Voldemort," she breathed.

"Of course," Harry whispered, the wheels in his brain spinning like crazy. "Voldemort must be wanting unicorn blood because he's really weak and near death. That would make sense. He wasn't destroyed on that day, Hermione. He was only weakened."

"But why would he want to live a cursed life?" Hermione asked. Fear was evident in her voice.

Harry shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he's really afraid of death or something…" He stopped dead, what Hermione asked finally registered in his brain. "Unless…" His blood ran cold. "He's only using unicorn blood as a temporary means of surviving until he could use something else that could return him to full power – something that can be found at Hogwarts." Then he thought for a while longer before deducing, "Quirrell is here. He has no need for unicorn blood though. He's perfectly alive in the living world. Voldemort's the one who needs the blood. Therefore…the turban! His turban is hiding something – a way for the blood to get to Voldemort. It's so obvious." With that, Harry led the way deeper into the forest.

"Wait, Harry! What are we doing? We can't possibly face Quirrell on our own!" Hermione hissed.

"We're going to avoid that if we can," Harry replied. "But I want to find the unicorn. It's injured."

"Are you crazy?" Hermione asked again exasperatedly. "We're risking our lives for a unicorn?" As selfish as that sounded, she really didn't think that they should go after Quirrell just to save a unicorn.

Harry turned towards her, his eyes determined. "You've never seen a unicorn before," he whispered. "They are the most beautiful, pure creatures you will ever see, Hermione."

"How does that justify what we're doing?" Hermione asked.

"It doesn't deserve to die, Hermione," Harry said simply but passionately.

Sighing, Hermione followed Harry deeper and deeper into the forest, following the trail of silvery blood.

Then after a while, Harry said, "There! Up ahead! The unicorn's stumbling around. It's really injured! C'mon!" He pulled Hermione after him towards the limping figure of a unicorn. After a few more seconds, the unicorn let out a weak neigh before collapsing underneath a tree. As Harry and Hermione approached the fallen creature, a cloaked figure also glided towards it, leaning towards the unicorn's throat.

Harry yelled the first offensive spell that came to his mind, not sure if it would work since the cloaked figure didn't seem to be using legs, "_Locomotor Mortis_!"

The figure, distracted from the unicorn by hearing Harry's yell, looked up and deflected the spell reflexively. Then it began to quickly glide towards him.

Harry froze in fear as pain exploded in his scar. He let out a yelp of pain and could hear Hermione's shout. She had fired a spell at the figure…_Pull yourself together, Harry, _Harry thought to himself, panicking. Blinking the tears of pain away, he tried to focus his vision. Hermione had distracted the figure, and that somehow relieved him of some pain. Panting, Harry stood up unsteadily, watching as the figure began to glide towards Hermione instead.

"_Confringo!_" Harry yelled, thanking the fact that he had been working ahead on most of his subjects. The figure burst into flames before it retreated. He ran over to Hermione. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded, still in shock. "I can't believe we survived that."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for distracting him. The pain lessened on my scar."

Hermione nodded.

Harry then motioned for her to come with him to the fallen unicorn, which was still breathing heavily from the blood loss. "Ferlin!" he called. There was a burst of fire that enveloped all the nearby areas in light before a red phoenix appeared on Harry's arm. He managed a weak grin when Hermione gasped. "Yeah, Hermione, the quill I sent you for Christmas was a feather from this phoenix." He came close to the unicorn's wound and showed Ferlin the wound.

Immediately tears dripped down onto the unicorn's wounds, healing the creature. "Thanks, Ferlin," Harry whispered. Then he turned to Hermione. "A unicorn prefers a woman's touch. It will trust you more than it trusts me."

Hermione nodded before kneeling down beside the unicorn who rolled onto its knees, trying to stand. She could see what Harry meant about unicorns being so beautiful and pure. Its coat was so white that it made snow look gray. Its large brown eyes showed only innocence. She took its muzzle, stroking it and whispering, "C'mon, you can do it. Try to stand up."

The unicorn struggled and stood up on shaky legs. Hermione stood as well, and to her surprise, it nudged her with its nose affectionately as if in thanks. _So beautiful…_Hermione thought. A good feeling spread throughout her being and she smiled. It was a happy feeling, one of the most uplifting she had ever experienced. "Was this how Harry felt when he saved my life?" Hermione whispered. The feeling was certainly an incentive to help others.

The unicorn then turned to look at Harry. It flicked its tail towards him but didn't approach him. Then it neighed softly, nodding its head towards the wizard as if to say 'thanks to you, too.'

"No problem," Harry said, grinning.

The unicorn allowed Hermione to caress its mane and brush its head a few more times before walking away, leaving Hermione and Harry to stare after it.

"Didn't I tell you the unicorn is one of the most beautiful creatures to ever inhabit the earth?" Harry asked Hermione.

Hermione nodded. "It was a nice feeling…to save a life, even if I had risked my own life."

Harry could only agree. "This night was productive," he said. "Now I just want to go to sleep. Since I would like to avoid getting a detention, grab my hand." When Hermione grabbed his hand, confused, Harry nodded to Ferlin, who burst into flames. The next thing they saw was the Gryffindor common rooms. "Good night, Hermione," Harry said, heading up to his dorms with Ferlin still on his arm.

…

The next few days, Harry spent most of his time in the library, determined to find anything that could possibly get Voldemort back to full power. He was so obsessed with his task that often, Hermione found him in the common rooms, asleep with a book open on his chest. After finding him in such positions, she would then drape a blanket over him.

Then one day, he asked her, "Hermione, do you remember Dumbledore's warning at the beginning of the year about the third floor corridor?"

Hermione nodded confused as to where Harry was going with the idea.

"What if what Voldemort wants is in the third floor corridor?" Harry asked. "I know I'm just posing theories, but that's the only clue we have as to where the thing Voldemort wants could be located."

"Harry, why are you so worried? Dumbledore would take care of this. He's not going to let Voldemort just steal it!" Hermione said, exasperatedly.

Harry shook his head. "Hermione, Dumbledore won't always be around. In fact, I don't even know if Dumbledore knows that Voldemort's after whatever the thing is. He probably just thinks that Quirrell is a dangerous person who might want the thing for his own use. If Voldemort's involved in this, the entire playing field would be different than if it were against Quirrell alone."

"Then why not the other teachers? We're just first years, Harry. You can't expect to defeat Voldemort…"

"And why should they believe us? As far as any one of them knows, Voldemort is dead. Plus, they might not know about the thing hidden in the castle, or they'll probably also say that protections are put around the thing. But if this is Voldemort we're dealing with, those protections will be nothing to his power." Harry paused before continuing, "No, Hermione. I will never underestimate Voldemort's power. I don't expect to defeat him. He's older with much more experience than me in dueling and any other branch of magic. No." His eyes suddenly dimmed with resignation, showing only determination. "I don't expect to defeat him. But if this is the only way to stop him, even if it's only temporary, I'll do it."

Hermione's eyes widened as what Harry said registered in her mind. "No, you can't be…"

"I'm not planning to, but I will do what it takes to stop Voldemort, even if I'm putting my life in danger. I refuse to let him back to power if I can help it. So many lives were ripped to shreds during the last war. Parents were killed, friends betrayed one another to save their own lives, other family members went insane due to extensive torture…" Harry seemed to withdraw within his mind.

After a silence, sighing, Hermione answered his original question, "To answer your question, Harry, truthfully, the third floor corridor is most likely the hiding place."

"So we got the location down, but what is the _thing_, exactly?"

Hermione shrugged. "I guess we'll just have to keep looking for possible things that allow a person to return to full power." After a while, she looked up over the thick tome she was reading. "Harry, do you trust any of the adults here?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes, I do. But I trust them in the fact that they are good people, not that they will listen to two eleven year olds who say that Voldemort's still alive and that the protections set by Dumbledore himself might not be sufficient."

"Harry, Dumbledore's one of the greatest wizards of the ages…"

"Hermione, I'm not underestimating Dumbledore's power and intelligence. He is no doubt one of the greatest wizards of the age, or else, why would Voldemort fear him? But think about it, Hermione, if Voldemort thinks he doesn't have a chance, then why would he send Quirrell here in the first place? That means Voldemort knows something – he knows he has a chance of thwarting Dumbledore's plans. Don't forget that Voldemort is a powerful, clever wizard as well."

Hermione couldn't argue against Harry's logic. It was as if he understands people's minds. It was as if he was playing a chess game, needing only some more information about his opponent before going in for the strike. "Harry, how do you know what people are going to do before they do them?"

Harry shrugged. "You only have to understand things from others' point of views. Like the fact that since everyone respects Dumbledore so much as a great wizard, they forget that he's human and makes mistakes, too. I respect him – his power, his intelligence, and his intentions – but I also understand that he makes mistakes, too, since I was affected by one of them. And it was no small thing either."

"When…?"

"Hermione, I really don't want to answer that question," Harry interrupted. He opened a chocolate frog, still staring at a page in a book. "Chocolate's good," he said, lightening the atmosphere and appreciating the darkly sweet taste that filled his mouth. Seeing Hermione's look, he grinned, glanced at the card, and pointed out the obvious, "Hey, haven't you noticed that Dumbledore and Merlin look like twins? Do you think Dumbledore could be a descendent of Merlin?" He laughed when Hermione rolled her eyes but grinned. "C'mon, Hermione, lighten up! We're in school, in the comfy Gryffindor common rooms, and you're not happy!"

"You're mental!" However, Hermione laughed at Harry's antics. Leave it to him to distract her.

Harry shrugged. "I suppose I can take that as a compliment." He turned the chocolate frog card around in his hand before handing it to Hermione. "Hey, you want the card?"

Hermione shook her head but took the card anyway. "Oh, well, I might learn something from it." Reading over the card, her face then took on a look of concentration. "_Considered by many to be the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard __Grindelwald__ in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of __Dragon__'s __blood__, and his work on __alchemy__ with his partner, __Nicolas Flamel__. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._"

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I can imagine him bowling."

"No, Harry, that's not what I'm getting at. Professor Dumbledore works in alchemy and has a partner. You know what alchemy entails, right?"

"Turning ordinary metal into gold?" Harry asked.

"And?"

"Finding a way to cure all illnesses and extend life indefinitely?" Harry asked, disinterested. "Really, Hermione, you can find information on alchemy in a lot of potions books…" His eyes widened. "Cure all illnesses and extend life indefinitely. Hold on a second! Nicolas Flamel created the Sorcerer's Stone! The Sorcerer's Stone can turn ordinary metal into gold and can create the Elixir of Life, which can extend your lifetime." He paled slightly. "The Elixir can also reincarnate a disembodied soul that is still bound to earth. Of course! This is proof! Voldemort's not gone! That night, Voldemort's body was destroyed, but his soul was still earthbound. That must have been what really happened the night he tried to kill me. He died, but at the same time, he didn't. That explains Quirrell and the fact that Voldemort isn't still wrecking havoc on the Wizarding World. It totally makes sense. Quirrell wants to get the stone, make the Elixir of Life, and reincarnate Voldemort, returning him to full power."

Harry let out a deep breath before staring into the fireplace. "You know what this could mean, right?"

"We might have to stop him ourselves." There was fear in Hermione's eyes, but Harry was surprised to hear determination in her voice as well.

"You're not scared?" He asked. "You don't have to come."

"Harry, I'm terrified, but don't be stupid. You're going to need help, and I'm coming with you. That incident in the forest taught me something – there are more important things than our fears. Sometimes we have to do things because no one else will."

Harry smiled. "I'm glad to have you for a friend, Hermione."

….

The next day, both Harry and Hermione were shocked to discover that Dumbledore wasn't at school. It had only started out that Dumbledore was missing from the teacher's table at breakfast and lunch. Worried, they went to Professor McGonagall.

"Professor, could we talk to Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked anxiously.

His teacher looked from him to Hermione and replied suspiciously, "He went off to the Ministry, Mr. Potter. He was called on some urgent business. He'll be back tomorrow."

"He's gone?" Harry repeated. The implications of what was going to happen hit him…hard.

"Yes. What did you need to talk to him about?" Professor McGonagall asked, still suspicious.

Harry sighed. "We think someone's trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone."

McGonagall gasped. "How did you two know?"

"It's complicated, Professor…" Harry replied anxiously.

"I can assure you that the stone is very well protected with very powerful enchantments."

"Yes, of course, Professor," Harry said, resigned. As they left the office, Harry turned to Hermione. "Well, I was accurate in my predictions of her reaction, wasn't I?" Harry's eyes glittered. "Quirrell's finally got his chance. He must've sent Dumbledore the letter. The Ministry will receive a shock when he gets there. Quirrell's going after the stone tonight. C'mon. We have to get there before he does!" However, as they approached the third floor corridor, they met up with Professor McGonagall, who had been apparently getting something from the library. She was furious.

"If I find you two near here again, it will not be my fault that you face expulsion!"

Afterwards, Hermione found Harry shaking by the fireplace in the commons. "Harry…"

"Quirrell's going down there tonight, and I'll be right after him. There's no way I'm going to allow Voldemort to come back if I can help it." His face was grim, but his eyes still glittered with determination. "That means I'll have to face him head on; I was hoping to get the stone before he does to avoid him, but that no longer seems an option."

"I'll be with you, Harry."

Harry looked up at her. "Hermione, you can be killed!"

"I know the risks, Harry. You don't have to tell me that. I know full well what I'm getting myself into." She hugged him. "But I'm still coming with to help."

Harry gazed at her with admiration at her loyalty and bravery. "Thanks, Hermione. I'm going to get some rest before tonight." With that, he went into his dorms and was surprised to see his invisibility cloak folded on his bed with a note attached to it. Harry had left the cloak at Potter Manor. In Dumbledore's fancy script were the words: _Just in case._ "He knew," Harry said simply, surprised. "He knew I'm going after him after the stone."


	7. Mastering the Heart's Greatest Desire

**Mastering the Heart's Greatest Desire**

Harry didn't tell Hermione about Dumbledore sending him the invisibility cloak or about his note and its implications. He had been incredulous that the Headmaster had actually allowed him, an eleven-year-old, to go after the stone. Would he have allowed any first year to go? Why did the Headmaster seem to want him to go after the stone? However, it was too late to ask him now. He had a mission to do – to stop Quirrell. That night, he met Hermione in the commons. His heart was thumping so loudly that he was certain Hermione could hear, but she didn't say anything about it. Fear, nervousness, and dread were running through his veins, but he didn't stop to dwell on them.

"You know that this will be one of the most reckless deeds ever done by first years, right, Hermione? We have no idea what's behind that door, and we're just jumping in, hoping we don't get killed," Harry said. "It's not too late to turn back, you know…"

"Shut up, Harry," she replied, looking slightly sick.

Harry chuckled despite the situation and held her close under the invisibility cloak as they headed towards the third floor corridor. Hermione pointed her wand at the door and whispered, "_Alohomora."_ The door swung open, and they nearly received a heart attack at the size of the sleeping Cerberus.

"What is Dumbledore thinking?" Harry hissed. "Keeping a Cerberus in a school!"

"I guess this is what McGonagall meant when she said that the stone was protected…" Hermione whispered.

"Well, it's not doing a good job of guarding now, is it?" Harry muttered. He glanced around the room and saw a harp in the corner, enchanted and playing music. "Somebody was here, and my bet's that was Quirrell. A Cerberus will go to sleep when it hears music."

"And how do you know these things, Harry? It's like every time we face something dangerous, you know what it is and stuff about it." Hermione began walking towards the beast's paw which was on a trapdoor while Harry folded up his invisibility cloak.

"The Potter estate is very extensive," Harry said. "It's an entire large island off the coast of Scotland. There are very large forests, and many magical creatures roamed the woods. They provide me hands-on experience. I observe unicorns from a distance while they go to drink from a pond. I found a Cerberus in a distant cave near the mountains. Before you ask how my family got a hold of such a large estate, you have to understand that my family has been living on that island for centuries." He helped Hermione push the paw to the side and heaved at the trapdoor, opening it.

To Hermione's surprise, Harry petted one of the beasts' heads, saying, almost fondly, "Have a good sleep." Seeing Hermione's stare, Harry smiled. "When you work with animals, Hermione, and see the good side of creatures that humans would think to be ferocious and cruel – such as a Cerberus for example – you begin to think differently. Maybe one day, I'll show you a Cerberus mother guard her defenseless pups, and you'll see what I mean. But that's a thought for another day." He jumped through the trapdoor first, landing on something soft, before calling up, "It's okay. You can jump!"

When Harry heard Hermione land beside him, he looked around the room. "Where do we go next?" he asked before vine-like tentacles wrapped themselves around his legs and arms and pulled him to the floor where more of them bound him. He can feel that bruises are going to form in the morning. "What are these?" he gasped.

Hermione squinted through the darkness, having already escaped the tentacles and standing on the farthest wall, and called out, "Harry, relax! This is the devil's snare! If you struggle, it will only kill you quicker!"

"That's a relaxing thought," Harry muttered before calming himself. More tentacles wrapped themselves around him, but placing his trust in Hermione, he closed his eyes and hoped for the best. "Hermione, they're not trying to kill me now, but the minute I start to move, they'll be on me! What else do you know about the Devil's Snare that can get them away from me?" he called out, trying to relax as much as possible while calling out. However, a tentacle immediately wrapped itself around his mouth. Panic hit him and he struggled, making the situation worse.

"Harry!" Hermione, panicking for her friend, began naming off everything she knew about the Devil's Snare. "They like damp, dark places…"

Harry bit the tentacle around his mouth, tasting bitterness before it let go of his mouth. He felt his airway close as a tentacle wrapped itself around his neck. "Light a fire!" He croaked, his hand unable to reach his own wand.

"But there are no matches or anything!" Hermione cried, searching desperately for anything that could make fire.

"Your wand!" Harry breathed out before feeling darkness closing in around him. _Please, Hermione…_

Hermione pulled out her wand and used the spell Harry used earlier. "_Confringo!"_ The Devil's Snare exploded into flames and withdrew quickly from Harry's still body. "Harry!" she cried, running towards him. "Wake up! Wake up!"

"I'm awake!" Harry breathed out, groaning heavily. "Honestly, Hermione? No matches?" He coughed, trying to regain his breath, before grinning sheepishly. "Thank goodness you were paying attention in Herbology." He stood up weakly.

"I'm amazed you didn't know about the devil's snare. You worked ahead in all your subjects, right?" Hermione asked, trying to calm herself after the ordeal of seeing a lifeless Harry. She saw with concern that a large bruise was forming a ring around his neck.

Harry ruffled the hair on the back of his head, chuckling nervously. "Well, yeah, but my memory isn't perfect. I might have read about the devil's snare somewhere, but I didn't give it much attention. I'm not that interested in plants. I focused more on Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Defense."

"You'll need to be a little more rounded, Harry," Hermione scolded, still trying to calm herself. "You'll need to be able to do more things than just waving your wand around. Potions also require knowledge of Herbology, you know."

"Well, see, that's why I go to the Apothecary instead. Those people know Herbology!" Harry knew Hermione was trying to diffuse the tenseness and the panic they had just felt after encountering the Devil's Snare, so he was only too happy to give her an argument and sarcastic comments. Surprisingly, talking, even if it was making a slight argument, calmed their nerves down. "Thank you, Hermione."

"Y-you're welcome," Hermione replied, shaken. "It's a good thing that you don't lose your head when you panic."

"Thanks."

The next room was filled with keys and there was one lonely broomstick. Harry grimaced, seeing the keys and the locked door on the other side of the room and understanding what needed to be done. "Well, I guess here's my forte, Hermione." He grabbed the broomstick and immediately the flying keys began to attack him. One of them hit his cheek and he could feel blood trickling onto his robe. Speeding away from the attacking keys, Harry spotted a key with a broken wing. Reeling his broom around, Harry ignored the sharp pain as the keys jabbed and cut him. Grabbing the key he sped away from the attacking flock.

"Hermione, catch!" He threw the key at Hermione, who fumbled to open the door. "Hurry!"

Finally, Hermione got the door open and ran into the next room, waving Harry inside. After Harry flew inside, Hermione closed the door behind him, wincing as she heard the sound of hundreds of keys stabbing the wood of the door on the other side. "You know, I'm amazed we got this far," she breathed.

Harry nodded, yawning slightly. It was well past midnight by now, and although he was used to staying up late, anxiety, fear, panic, and physical excursion were starting to take their toll on him. "Come on. The faster we get this done, the earlier we can get back to our beds." To him, nothing sounded better than a good night sleep at this point.

"Harry…look."

Harry looked up and he groaned. He was not in a thinking mood. It was a chessboard. Knowing that anything protecting the stone would require personal risk, Harry turned to a black piece next to him. "We have to play to get ourselves across, right?"

The knight nodded at him, and Harry sighed. He briefly wondered if he could just blast them all with a reducto curse. But if it were that easy, Quirrell would've already done it. There was no indication that he did though, and Harry wasn't too keen on testing it out. The pieces might have protections on them to prevent that kind of thing from happening and then they might try to kill both of them for cheating their way across. Then he looked across the board at the white pieces and grimaced. They looked so cold. "Fine. I'll be a bishop, and, Hermione, be a knight."

"Harry, I don't know how to play chess…"

"Just follow my lead." Harry blinked the weariness out of his system and closed his eyes, imagining the playing field as just another chess game with one of his ancestors, many of whom were adept at the game. Then he stepped in, taking the place of a bishop. Then he narrowed his eyes in determination. After the white pieces made their move, Harry began his move.

Hermione stared at Harry. She knew he was brilliant in academics, but she never knew he was a good strategist, too. He seemed to know which pieces are worth sacrificing, and which aren't. Even though she didn't know chess, she knew the white pieces must be posing as a very good opponent to be put as a protection for the Sorcerer's Stone. She had no doubt that in order for Harry to be holding his own in the game, he must be a good player. Then soon, she realized that there were only a few more pieces on the board. She turned to Harry. He had paused, his eyes showing fear and then panic._ No! Harry couldn't have lost. He seemed to be in so much control of the board…_

Then she observed the board. During the game, she was able to pick up on how the pieces move. The king was trapped between several pieces – whether they're white pieces that, while trying to defend him, blocked him from moving effectively or black pieces in position to trap him. She suddenly realized why Harry seemed to panic. There was only one way to win…doing it any other way, victory won't be a guarantee. The only way was to sacrifice her and move into position to check the king without the queen interfering. So that was why Harry was so conflicted. He was deciding whether victory was worth what can be a fatal blow that could cost Hermione her life.

"Harry," she called, her voice shaking. His head snapped up, his eyes tired and weary.

"Yes?"

She smiled encouragingly. Fear was in her eyes, but she said firmly, "Do it, Harry. You're wasting time. There's only one way to guarantee victory, and you know it."

Horror flickered in his eyes as he shook his head. "Hermione, I can't lose you…"

Hermione knew that Harry viewed her as precious to him. She was his first friend his age, and they've been through a lot together. She believed in him when all his other classmates feared him. Despite her fears, she trusted in his decisions and was loyal to him. "Sometimes, we have to do our duty, Harry, even if it costs us a lot of pain. It's sometimes easier to sacrifice ourselves than others." Seeing him still refusing to sacrifice her, she consoled him, "Do it, Harry. Everything will be okay." She knew it was a lie, and he knew it was, too.

Harry swallowed. That sounded so familiar. Someone had said that to him before. "Hermione…I'm sorry. Move up two, and left one," he said, steeling himself before he could take back his decision. As soon as that was out of his mouth, horror showed clearly on Harry's face.

Hermione did as she was told and saw the queen coming towards her. She readied herself for the blow. The queen took her sword and rammed its hilt into the side of Hermione's head . She immediately collapsed, but amazingly, she managed to hold onto consciousness, although her vision was blurred with spots. Through her haze, she wondered why the queen didn't just outright kill her. She could hear Harry make his final moves quickly and his footsteps as he ran to her side. She heard him desperately call for his phoenix, which appeared on his arm. She could feel hot tears dripping into her mouth before she muttered weakly, "Ferlin is a life-saver."

Harry shushed her, "Save your strength."

When her wound was cured, Harry told her. "Hermione, take Ferlin. He will carry you back and protect you as much as he can on the way. Try to get in contact with Dumbledore. I'm going after Quirrell." Seeing her about to protest, he hissed, "Hermione, look at yourself! You look as pale as a ghost. You've done enough for me." His voice softened. "Thank you."

Hermione pulled him into a tight hug, her bushy hair taking over his vision. "Please come back," she whispered into his ear. "You're a great wizard, Harry, and not because of your intelligence or your knowledge of spells and how to use them. It's because of how you use your talents that matter."

Harry smiled. It was nice being hugged by Hermione. It was a sweet hug – one that he would never want to get out of. "Don't worry, Hermione. I'll see you tomorrow morning," he said, trying to sound optimistic.

She nodded, not arguing with him. "I'll see you." With that, she grabbed onto Ferlin's tail feathers and he carried her out.

Sighing, Harry walked towards the door on the other end of the room. He wished more than ever that he had Sasha's company. It would've been comforting to know that he wasn't doing this alone. However, his snake familiar had fallen asleep on his bed, and he had thought that it would be detrimental for both of them if she went along in her sleepy state – extra weight slowing him down on his part and a dull, unclear mind on Sasha's part. Therefore, he didn't wake her up.

He arrived in a room where there was an unconscious mountain troll. Grateful that Quirrell actually knocked it out for him, he continued onwards to a room with several bottles lined up and a logic puzzle to crack. A headache was already forming. He just wanted this night to be over. Reading it over a couple of times, he finally understood it. He grabbed the third bottle and, taking a deep breath, he drank it, walking through the black flames and into the final chamber.

He saw Quirrell standing in front of the Mirror of Erised – so that was where Dumbledore moved the mirror. Harry was not surprised to see Quirrell there. "Hey, Professor," Harry said, his voice calm although his heart was thumping quickly. This was a follower of Voldemort. He was dangerous. Harry was staring at possible death in the eye. However, his determination overwhelmed his fear.

Quirrell slowly turned around. "Ah, Mr. Potter."

"You lost your fake stutter. What a surprise," Harry commented. He knew he was stalling for time, but right now, he didn't know what to expect from the man. His hand gripped his wand in his robes, waiting for the right moment to send a stunner or something at Quirrell.

"Of course. I'm surprised you found out about me. Don't pretend I don't notice your suspicious looks every time I teach or go somewhere. You followed me into the Forbidden Forest. If that didn't communicate your suspicions, nothing will. However, no one else would've even given a second thought to your suspicions. After all, who would've expected the poor, stuttering Professor Quirrell?"

"I bet Dumbledore did," Harry replied. "He suspected you all along. That's why he hired you. Anyone could see that your stuttering would make you an incompetent teacher. That's the only reason he would've hired you."

"Perhaps he did, Potter, but he's not here now." Quirrell conjured ropes which attempted to wrap themselves around Harry, who whipped his wand out, using the first spell that came to his mind.

"_Confringo!"_ The ropes burst into flames and turned to ashes.

"I see you are at least a competent wizard, Potter. However, it will take more than that to defeat me, who has the Dark Lord on his side." The second after he said that, Harry was placed under a full Body-Bind by a nonverbal spell by Quirrell. "Now, wait there quietly while I figure this obstacle out. I can see the stone in the mirror, but how do I get it out? Do I break it? No doubt that would destroy the stone as well."

"_Use the boy."_

Harry started. Was that Voldemort's disembodied soul talking? Was Voldemort here?

"Potter, come here!"

Harry was let out of his Body-Bind, and Quirrell dragged him in front of the mirror. Harry looked away, refusing to help. However, Quirrell simply snapped his head back. Harry was surprised when he saw himself in the mirror, smiling and putting the Sorcerer's Stone in his pocket. At that moment, a small weight was felt in his robe's pocket. _I have the stone…How?_ This must be Dumbledore's obstacle, but how did he get the stone so easily?

"What do you see, Potter?"

"I see myself…" Pausing, Harry spun around, whipping his wand to point at Quirrell's face, and yelled, "_Stupefy!_"

Quirrell easily conjured a shield and flicked his wand lazily. Harry's wand flew out of his hand. "I'll ask you again, Potter. What did you see?"

"I see nothing!" Harry cried out defiantly, his tired state doing nothing to lessen his determination.

"_Let me talk to the boy."_

"Master, you are not strong enough," Quirrell protested.

"_I'm strong enough…for this."_

Harry saw Quirrell unwrap his turban, which didn't surprise him. Was there a mirror or something underneath that allows him to talk to Voldemort's soul? What did surprise him, though, and sent shockwaves throughout his body, was a disfigure head sticking out the back of Quirrell's head. "Voldemort…" Harry breathed, horrified at the picture.

"_Harry Potter – The Boy Who Lived. Now, do not be foolish. I know you are a bright boy. Your natural talent with the wand shows that…along with the fact that you use intuitive logic to figure out that it was Quirrell who is after the stone to reincarnate me. You are not foolish. Give me the stone that you have in your pocket, and you shall be awarded for helping Lord Voldemort return to power. You will be the greatest of my followers…"_

"I will never go over to the Dark side! You killed my parents!" Harry yelled, still defiant. "You can only get the stone over my dead body!"

"Master, I will gladly kill him for you," Quirrell said eagerly.

"_Silence, Fool." _Voldemort considered Harry for a minute before saying, "_What if I tell you that I can bring your parents back to life?"_

"I'd say you're lying," Harry said wearily. "You killed them. You went after them. And now, even considering for a minute that you could bring them back, you think I'm going to believe that you would?" However, his mind was unclear, and he tried to blink to clear his thoughts. He didn't trust Voldemort, but what if there was a way to bring his parents back to life? That was his heart's greatest desire – to feel his mother's loving kiss…to feel his father ruffle his hair in pride…

"_Why would it be impossible? Nothing is impossible with enough power. Give me the stone, boy, and I will give you the power you deserve. Power that will allow you to take revenge on those Muggles who abused you. Power to force the student population to acknowledge you and fear you…Power that Albus Dumbledore himself would never dream of possessing…"_

"THE ONLY REASON DUMBLEDORE DOESN'T POSSESS THOSE POWERS IS THAT HE WOULD NEVER LOWER HIMSELF TO SUCH A LEVEL!" Even in his state, Harry didn't like Voldemort's offer. Inflicting pain on others for his pleasurable revenge…it was disgusting. Revenge would only be bitter to him, whose scars would never heal; revenge would make him no better than the people who inflicted pain upon him. Revenge would forever damage him.

"_There is no good or evil….only power. Even you cannot deny that with enough power, you can bring your parents back to life…After all, they didn't need to have died for you."_

No, Harry couldn't deny it, not after what Ignotus had said about the Resurrection Stone. He wondered if Voldemort did have the power to bring his parents back to the world of the living. Then he could finally see his real family.

"_Consider it. You can see your parents again. All you have to do is give me that stone."_

Harry fingered the red stone in his pocket. He was so tired at this point in time… The only thing he could keep focus on was the possibility that Voldemort could help him with the greatest desire of his heart. Such desire was far more to him than the desire to prevent Voldemort from returning to power. Harry shook his head, trying to clear his foggy mind. Where were all these thoughts coming from? He knew most of it was from his sleepiness and weariness – Voldemort was taking advantage of that.

_The desires of our hearts, Harry, can sometimes blind us. It's only when we control and master the desire that we can master ourselves. _Dumbledore's words seemed so far away at this point. It was his desire to see his parents, but they would be so disappointed in him if they were brought back to life to see the world in ruins…Harry looked into the Mirror of Erised again, seeing his parents smiling at him. How much was his desire to see them, living and breathing! _Mom, Dad, give me strength._ "No, Voldemort. I will never give you the stone," Harry said simply. It wasn't the cleverest thing he's ever said, but it got his point across.

"_Kill him and get the stone!"_

_So this is it,_ Harry thought as Quirrell hurled towards him, his hand curled to close around his neck and strangle him. Harry was defenseless with no wand. He was tired and weak, drained of all his energy. His act of defiance had taken all of his willpower. His scar exploded into pain as Quirrell wrapped his hand around Harry's neck.

"ARGH!"

"_Use your wand, Fool!"_ Voldemort screamed.

Harry snapped to attention, coughing slightly. Quirrell stumbled away from him, his hand looking as though it had been burned. _He can't touch my bare skin…_Instincts took over, and Harry lunged at Quirrell, his hands cupping Quirrell's face. As the fake professor crumbled to dust before him, Harry collapsed, more tired than he had ever been all his life. He put his hand into his pocket, taking comfort in the safety of the stone.

Suddenly, his scar exploded in pain again, and he felt Voldemort's angry presence pass right through him before he blacked out.

**I feel that I would need to explain some points at this point in time. Many of you must think that I was lying when I said that Harry will be powerful in my summary. After all, here, he was nearly killed by the Devil's Snare, had to be rescued by Hermione, was succumbing to lack of sleep, defeated easily by Quirrell even though he had his wand with him, etc…Everything seemed to point to the fact that he is NOT powerful, or even that intelligent. This seemed a contrast to him at some other points in the story when he seemed to know about all kinds of stuff and seemed to be a genius. **

**The only thing I can say is that Harry is human, too. I'm trying to be realistic. Harry might have a lot of knowledge in many areas, but he severely lacks experience. Harry will be powerful, but it will be through hard work and through realistic situations. He will not just automatically become an experienced duelist and a superhuman. He's also an eleven-year-old who likely never has dueled with a wand before. It's not likely that he'll be able to beat Quirrell in a wand-to-wand scenario. Harry's human – he forgets things, becomes surprise at things, succumbs to desires, and feel the effects of things often neglected in works of fiction and entertainment – such as sleep. **

**With that note, the next chapter marks the end of Harry's first adventure at Hogwarts. If there are any clarifications needed, just send a review. **


	8. A Happy Ending to a Terrible Year

**A Happy Ending to a Terrible Year**

Harry gasped. He shot out of bed. He looked around him. He was in the hospital wing. "How did I end up here?" he muttered to himself.

"Good afternoon, Harry."

Harry turned to see Professor Dumbledore sitting in a chair next to his bed. "Good afternoon, Professor," Harry said carefully. He had so many questions to ask the elderly man. The fact that Dumbledore appeared so calm soothed him. Things must be okay then.

Dumbledore smiled gently and said, "I noticed a dramatic change in the student attitude these last few days." Dumbledore motioned to a pile of sweets next to Harry's bed. "Those are some gifts from admirers and those who would like to thank you for protecting the stone. I think I see something from Professor McGonagall in there."

"Admirers?" Harry asked in disbelief.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, it's hard to believe when throughout this school year, most of the student body either feared you, hated you, or ignored you. However, it's a strange thing how people's minds work. Sometimes, you have to go to extreme lengths in order to gain their respect. And I must commend your patience in dealing with them this year."

"Does the entire school know then?" Harry asked, wondering how that came to be.

"What happened down in the chambers between you, Voldemort, and Professor Quirrell was a complete secret. Of course, the whole school knows. After all, it's hard to miss the fact that we no longer have Defense Against the Dark Arts. Some people made the connection with your absences, and eventually, everyone turned to asking Ms. Granger for information. She was not an adept liar, so in the end, the truth leaked."

Harry was surprised that Dumbledore knew about Voldemort and Professor Quirrell. He had seriously underestimated the man's intelligence. "Sir, I have a lot of questions, if you don't mind," Harry stated tentatively.

"I will answer them, unless I have a good reason not to. However, I will not lie."

Harry then asked the question that he most desperately wanted answers to, "Why did you let me and Hermione go after the stone, Professor? I mean, surely you don't think we have a chance against Quirrell and Voldemort, do you?"

"Ah, you've taken to using his name," Dumbledore said, sounding delighted. "That is good. As to answer your question, Harry, I care for my students very much, and I would not let just any student go down there. What you have demonstrated throughout this year is intelligence, wisdom, and courage far beyond your years. No doubt that not many people, even full grown wizards, could have done the feats that you have set out to do down there. No, Harry, I did think you have a chance against Voldemort."

"But, Sir, still, why did you let me take him on when you knew? I mean, you're the only one Voldemort's ever feared…"

The Headmaster chuckled. "Ah, Harry, you sure know how to make an old wizard blush. But I had thought that you deserved a chance to, how do they say it, 'have a go' at Voldemort after all the efforts you put into the attempt."

Harry stared. The Mirror of Erised, the invisibility cloak…Dumbledore, instead of trying to stop him, had given him just enough help to get him through the ordeal. Had he really had that much faith in a first year? Now that he thought about all the obstacles, he and Hermione had been able to get through them fairly fine with each others' help. Even if the Cerberus hadn't been asleep, Harry knew how to put it to sleep anyway because of his experiences with magical creatures on his ancestral home. Devil's Snare was taught in first year Herbology, and of course, Hermione had probably taken extensive notes on it. Harry was a phenomenal Seeker so it wasn't too far-fetched to believe he can catch the key, even with a few hundred other keys attacking him. Harry was a good chess player, being taught the game by some of his ancestors who lived during a time when chess was a popular game. In addition, even if Quirrell hadn't knocked the troll out, both Hermione and Harry had faced a troll before – even if Harry had been the one actually fighting it. And Snape's obstacle…if Harry had been able to use logic to reach the knowledge of the Sorcerer's Stone hidden in the castle, the logic puzzle would've been a piece of cake… The only real danger was Quirrell and Voldemort. So Dumbledore knew they could get past the obstacles, and he also recognized that the work and effort they put into this thing were deserving of a chance for him to face Voldemort himself. Perhaps it really wasn't that far-fetched of an idea, allowing them to go after the stone.

"Sir, I'm just curious, but why didn't the queen aim to kill Hermione? We were playing the chess game, and the queen just hit her in the head. It wasn't even a fatal blow!" Harry asked, suddenly remembering the funny thing about the chess game. "I mean, I'm not ungrateful or anything, but I'm just curious…if it was a protection."

"Ah, my boy, I played a part in that, convincing Professor McGonagall to put some extra enchantments on the pieces. Those pieces can sense one's intentions, Harry. That's why the queen did not aim to kill…However, since they are called 'protections,' you still have to play to get across to get closer to the stone, no matter how noble your intentions are." Dumbledore paused before adding, "Again, Harry, I would never have allowed you and Ms. Granger to go after the stone if I did not think you have a chance. However, I had feared for your life when I returned to Hogwarts and Ms. Granger was alone without you."

Harry nodded understandingly. Then he said wearily, "Nothing scared me more when I had to sacrifice Hermione, Professor. She was so loyal, brave…she's my friend, one of the people most precious to me."

Dumbledore smiled. "You love her, and you wish to protect her. Such passion will give you strength, Harry. Some of the greatest witches and wizards in history have been able to do phenomenal things just because they want to protect their love ones." Dumbledore paused before continuing, "Like what your mother wished to do for you. She loved you so much that she sacrificed her life for you – that requires much courage and strength, facing death in the eye. Lily received a choice that Voldemort never gave anyone else. She received the choice of whether to live by moving aside for him to kill you outright or to die by standing between the two of you. I doubt that Voldemort gives such a choice before, and it was this choice that was the deciding factor in the end. Due to this choice and her decision to stand between you and Voldemort, Lily gave you protection so powerful that someone as greedy and power-hungry as Quirrell cannot bear to touch you, who is marked by something so good. Lily's protection is in your veins."

Tears created a stream down Harry's cheeks before he wiped them furiously on his sleeves. He sniffed before asking, "How do you know about this being a choice, Sir?" He had never realized that his mother had a choice…he had always assumed that the sacrifice made because of love was all that's needed to give him protection. That means, while his father did sacrifice his life too, his mother had played the crucial part in him being alive right now.

"I have very reliable sources." Dumbledore paused. "Love is a powerful thing, Harry, and it sets you and Voldemort on very different ends of the spectrum. Quirrell died when Voldemort abandoned him because he was no use to him any longer, not being able to kill you. Voldemort knows no love and shows no mercy to his enemies and followers alike."

Harry widened his eyes. "That's…monstrous."

"Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Quirrell?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "A little. Quirrell was evil, but still…"

"Ah." Dumbledore was watching Harry calculatingly.

"Why was Voldemort giving me a choice, Sir, instead of allowing Quirrell to kill me outright and take the stone? He wanted to give me a chance to hand over the stone. I would've thought he'd be determined to kill me after he failed the first time."

"No doubt he wanted to avoid the same mistake as last time, where the Killing Curse rebounded due to your mother's protection. It would've minimized damage to him as well as possibility of mistakes had you just handed over the stone. Of course, after he realized that that won't work, he resorted to killing you. On that note, I would like to compliment you on your willpower and your judgment in such a situation. And, Harry, I would like to assure you on one thing – there is no way to really resurrect the dead – and even if there was such a way, the dead would not want to return to the world of the living in that way."

There was a silence, during which Dumbledore studied the ceiling above them. Again, Harry was amazed at how much Dumbledore knew. He wasn't even down there in the chamber when Voldemort made the offer to resurrect his parents! "Sir, where is the stone?" Harry asked, remembering the cause of all this trouble.

"It will soon be destroyed, Harry."

"Oh." Harry was slightly disappointed. "But your friend Nicolas…"

"You have done a magnificent job of researching, Harry. Yes, Nicolas will eventually die – in about five months or so – after his store of Elixir is out. Nicolas has no intention of living any longer than that." Dumbledore paused. "The Stone is not that great after all. Money and immortality. They are usually what humans treasure above all else. However, we do tend to choose things that are bad for us. To you, death may seem a sad thing, but for Nicolas, who has so many years on him, death is like going to sleep."

Harry hesitated before asking, "Professor, is it possible for me to keep the stone to study it? Keeping it at Potter Manor, hidden by the Fidelius Charm? I won't use it."

"Study it, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, sounding slightly puzzled.

Harry nodded. He had taken an interest in alchemy ever since he discovered that the Sorcerer's Stone was hidden in the castle. "I want to learn alchemy, Professor. It seems an interesting branch of magic. Just for knowledge's sake."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I will be glad to talk to Nicolas. No doubt after the lengths you've gone through to protect the stone, but wish not to use it, he would believe that the stone will be in good hands with you." He chuckled. "After all, for my obstacle, only someone who wants to find the stone but not use it can get the stone."

Harry widened his eyes. So that was why he had gotten the stone so easily… "Wait, Sir, does that mean that I came down there for nothing? Quirrell couldn't get the stone since he couldn't pass your obstacle."

"Well, Harry, although it might have meant that you went down there for nothing," Dumbledore said, chuckling, "it does not undermine anything, for the protection could've easily been something else less sufficient."

Harry stared, uncomprehendingly, before he blushed madly in embarrassment. Dumbledore was referring to Harry's caution with the Headmaster's vulnerability to making mistakes. Deciding to return to the real subject at hand before the Headmaster distracts him, he asked, "By the way, Sir, do you think you can teach me alchemy? I mean you are an alchemist, too, working with Nicolas Flamel…" Harry had been sheepish about requesting this of Dumbledore, knowing that as Headmaster, the man must be very busy.

"Yes, I am, Harry, but a better teacher for you would be Nicolas himself. He knows the subject very well, as you can guess. I have worked with him, being his student for several years. I would be glad to ask him for you. No doubt that being an apprentice, you will be a delightful gift to him before he leaves this world. Nicolas had adored teaching, but he had not done so for many years."

Harry then frowned slightly. "Professor, summer only lasts three months. I won't be able to do it during the school year with so much work and all. Will three months be enough to learn everything?"

Dumbledore peered over his half-moon glasses and said, "No, Harry. Alchemy takes years to learn. However, if you work hard over the summer, no doubt Nicolas will teach you enough that you may be able to understand the basics of alchemy. From there, you can self-teach yourself the rest of the study of alchemy – however much more you want to learn."

Harry grinned, delight showing clearly on his face. "Thank you, Sir. Oh, but I have one last question."

Dumbledore nodded. "Fire away, my boy."

"Do you know why Voldemort came after me in the first place? My parents' portrait had said that you suspect that I was in danger, but why?"

Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "I will tell you when you are ready, Harry. For now, do not worry yourself with such musings." He then glanced at the door of the hospital wing and then smiled. "Ms. Granger has been waiting to talk to you for a very long time. Despite Madame Pomfrey's protests, she was very determined to spend every evening by your bedside – which is an amazing feat I assure you for the chair is very uncomfortable. You are very lucky, Harry, to have found yourself such a loyal friend." With that, Dumbledore stood up and opened the door, motioning for Hermione to come in.

As soon as Dumbledore left, Hermione ran to Harry's side and hugged him, which was slightly awkward considering Harry was in bed and she was next to his bedside. However, Harry loved the feeling – even if his head still hurt a bit. When she finally let go of him and sat down on the chair beside his bed, she said quietly, "You told me that we'll see each other the next morning, but you said nothing about coming back in Dumbledore's arms near dead!"

Harry laughed sheepishly. "Well, things don't normally come out the way we planned." He stopped when Hermione's eyes became filled with furious tears.

"Harry, don't joke about these kinds of things! I was worried sick about you! For a while, I actually thought you were…" She didn't finish. Harry's eyes were intense on her, again.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean anything by it," he said softly.

She relaxed and changed the topic. "So what did happen down there? I gave everyone an overview of what happened, but I wasn't sure about the details myself."

With that, Harry told her what happened after they separated paths. Afterwards, she told him about how, by the time she arrived at the owlery, Dumbledore was already at Hogwarts, rushing towards the third floor. "It's like he knew we were going after the stone or something."

"He did," Harry replied. "I'm not sure if he knew the letter supposedly from the Ministry was a fake when he received it, but he knew we were going after the stone that night."

"That's really dangerous!" Hermione exploded. "I can't believe he would allow us to do this kind of thing!"

Harry shrugged. "He believed we had a chance against Voldemort, so he gave us a bit of help and then leave the rest to us." Harry then changed the subject, eager to avoid an angry Hermione. "Which reminds me. Hermione, this summer, I'm going into an apprenticeship with Nicolas Flamel," Harry said, already predicting her reaction. "And Dumbledore said that he might allow me to keep possession of the stone for study, although I won't use it."

Hermione gasped. "Nicolas Flamel?"

Harry nodded.

"But why do you want to learn alchemy, Harry, of all things?"

"Mostly, I just want to learn about it because it's interesting." Harry shrugged. "Besides, the chance to study with the greatest alchemist in the world is too tempting to resist. What's going on around Hogwarts?"

"The whole school's talking about you and what happened down there with Professor Quirrell. In fact, I don't think people are scared of you anymore; they seemed to think you're a hero, going after the evil mastermind Professor Quirrell who wants to steal the stone, all this time pretending to be innocent. It kinda helped that when I told everyone the story, Professor Dumbledore confirmed it with the teachers, who agreed openly whenever a student asked them to confirm my story." Seeing Harry's happy look, Hermione couldn't help but be happy for him, too. After nearly an entire year of isolation from the student body, Harry was finally accepted, even if it nearly cost him his life.

Harry couldn't believe it himself. Sasha had been right. He only had to be patient for the right moment to prove himself.

"They even stopped treating Sasha like a plague! She had been panicking when she realized what happened to you, but you guys never had to go to the hospital wing before, so she doesn't know how to get here. She went around the school, hissing at everyone. At first, people were scared, but then I think Neville assumed she was looking for you. He pointed the way to the hospital wing, and she left everyone alone, rushing here. After that, they thought that she might not be so bad after all. I mean, they're not comfortable with her (who can be with an eighteen foot venomous snake), but after deciding that you might be a good person after all and therefore Sasha might be good as well, they decided to give her a chance."

Harry grinned. "Neville's a brave one. He just needs a boost. I think it was because of Sasha not killing Trevor at the beginning of the year that might have played a role in that. Where is Sasha anyway?"

"She's sleeping under your bed. Madame Pomfrey made a big deal out of her sleeping on you, so I had to spend several hours convincing her to sleep somewhere else."

Harry laughed. "So, I'm taking it that the school is finally over its stereotype that all snakes are the mark of a dark wizard?"

Hermione hesitated before saying slowly, "Not completely, but it's much better. It'll take a while for people to adjust. They've been living with the stereotype their entire lives after all. Although it was interesting to note that Fred and George Weasley were singing in the commons a few nights ago, saying that you're a true Gryffindor."

Harry nodded understandingly. "Anything else around the school, Hermione?"

"We got exams coming up."

Harry groaned. "When are those again?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "They start next week." She could only watch, amused, as Harry shared with her his theories on how to get out of taking the exams.

…

When Harry finally got out of the hospital wing, he was delightfully surprised. For the first time, he wasn't treated as a total outcast. Some people waved to him, and some nodded at him in acknowledgement. Some even asked him how he was doing. For a person who had been isolated by his classmates for most of his life, it was a miracle.

At his first dinner out of the hospital wing, he looked towards the staff table and saw Professor Dumbledore smiling right at him. Professor McGonagall tilted her chalice towards him as if to say – "As reckless as your actions were, you have done a good job." Snape, on the other hand, just turned away without any word or gesture to show he acknowledged what Harry did down in the chambers.

At the last Quidditch match, Harry's skill had rusted only slightly because he had been hospitalized and hadn't been at practice for a while. However his eyes were still sharp, and he caught the Snitch in reasonable time, resulting in their house winning the Quidditch championship. Harry swore that he had never had so many people fawn over him that night. Angelina, Katie, and Alicia gave him so many hugs that it became hard to breath, and the Weasley twins carried him on their shoulders in the commons, causing people to laugh when Harry turned red in embarrassment. Wood had been so proud, he kept saying, "The best Seeker in the century. Is there any Snitch that you can't catch, Potter?" The entire Gryffindor house celebrated that night.

The exams came and went. Harry scored the highest in their class on both the theory and the practical exams while Hermione came close second. "It's amazing how you did so well in Herbology considering you said it yourself that you have no interest in it and you nearly got yourself killed with the Devil's Snare," Hermione had commented. Ever since Harry assured her that her muggleborn status did nothing to weaken her prowess as a witch, she was much more bearable when it comes to academics, grades, etc. Normally she would've attacked someone had they beat her in a class…

Harry shrugged. "I study when I have to. And ever since Snape showed me how to make a potion that sharpens my focus when I study, I have been brewing that very often lately to cram for the tests."

"And why did you never show me how to make that?" Hermione growled, furious.

"Erm, you never asked…" In fact, Harry had been so focused on studying the last few days before the exams, that he hadn't really done anything outside of that. With that, he had completely forgotten that Hermione might want the potion, too. Harry thought that he would rather face Voldemort ten times over than Hermione when he saw the expression on her face after he said that.

After the exams, they had a few more days to hang out before the summer holidays. It was particularly enjoyable, due to the fact that Hermione wasn't constantly worried about her grades – although she did say, "We should study early, you know…"

But of course, whenever she said that, Harry just pretended to listen while in reality, he was more interested in watching a squid in the Hogwarts lake, around which they often take long walks. "You want to come over to Potter Manor when the holidays start?" he asked her. "I'm not going over to Flamel's place until a week after school ends."

"I'll need to ask my parents and pack and stuff first," Hermione replied.

Harry nodded. "And by which method of transportation would you like to travel?"

Hermione shrugged. "Anything but the Floo Network. I don't like getting soot and ash all over my robes."

Harry chuckled. "I guess we can travel by phoenix Apparition." With that, Harry's got his holidays booked. At the end of the year feast, the Great Hall was filled with red and gold with Gryffindor winning the House Cup for the first time in many years. Of course, the dirty looks the Slytherins gave them were actually quite intimidating. All in all, it was a great ending to a terrible year, as Harry told his dorm mates while he was waving his wand around, packing his trunk and everything neatly and efficiently. Harry made sure to secure the Sorcerer's Stone away before he loaded all his belongings onto the Hogwarts Express.

He founded Hermione in an otherwise empty compartment and sat down across from her. "I wonder what will happen next year," Harry wondered out loud. "If the Sorcerer's Stone fiasco happened in our first year, can you imagine what will happen in subsequent years?"

**Please review!**


	9. Looking at Things from Different Angles

**Looking at Things from Different Angles**

**There was one thing I would like to address on the last chapter. Someone brought up that despite Harry's intelligence in the last chapter, he had given in too easily to manipulation by Dumbledore. It seems unrealistic. For one, Harry didn't question why Dumbledore didn't stop Quirrell earlier in the year. However, although Harry had only question why Dumbledore allowed them to go after the stone, the question of why Dumbledore didn't do it himself was answered implicitly later on in the conversation when Harry realized that he didn't really have to go after the stone because Dumbledore's Mirror of Erised protection was suffice to keep Voldemort from having the stone. Dumbledore had tried to stop Voldemort, but it was passive action and not active action. It's like someone who doesn't want to fight someone outright but only want to prevent them from doing something terrible. The question just didn't follow logically in the conversation. My apologies, for that mistake in writing would have left many questions unanswered.**

**The obstacles themselves were not manipulated to allow Hermione and Harry entry. Harry just acknowledged that Dumbledore knew what he was doing when he allowed them to go down there – he knew they would be safe and can get past them. And of course, Dumbledore had been a responsible adult – at least in his duty of guarding the stone. He didn't need first years to fight his battle for him because he already knew his protection on the stone was enough. The reason he allowed the duo to go after the stone was because he believed that they deserved a chance to face Voldemort after all the work they did to get to that point - at least, that's part of the reason.  
><strong>

When Hermione arrived home and told her parents of her plans to be at Harry's house for a few days, they readily agreed. They liked Harry, who was polite and easily won them over at their last meeting. Hermione quickly packed before waiting for Harry to arrive two mornings later. He would arrive at their front door as always although her parents had said that after what happened last time when they left by Floo Powder, they wouldn't be surprised anymore if Harry popped out of thin air in the middle of the living room. Harry had said that that wasn't impossible, but he had always preferred to use the front door.

When the time came and his familiar knock can be heard, Hermione opened the door and invited him in. Ferlin was perched on his shoulder and Harry was grinning eagerly. "Hey," Harry said. He exchanged pleasantries with her parents before turning back to her and asking, "Are you ready?"

Hermione nodded and went upstairs to get her trunk. As she pulled her trunk towards him, she turned towards her parents and said, "I'll see you in a few days, Mom, Dad."

They nodded. "We'll see you soon, Dear." They hugged her before she grabbed Harry's arm and the familiar flames enveloped her. The next thing she knew, they were at Potter Manor. Immediately after they arrived, Harry took out his wand and levitated her trunk. "Come on. I'll show you the guest room." He had hardly taken a few steps when Hermione let out a cry.

"Harry!"

"Huh?" Harry was surprised at her outburst.

Hermione appeared shocked and nervous. "Harry, you're not supposed to do magic out of school! What happens if you're expelled?"

To her surprise, he laughed. He took her hand and led her to her room. He set her trunk down and said light-heartedly, "I can explain while you unpack." She slowly began to unpack, still keeping her focus on him. "I modified the Trace on myself so that I can practice magic freely. Although the Ministry wouldn't keep track of me anyway at Potter Manor, it feels good not to have something stupid like the Trace getting in the way…"

Hermione only gaped at him. "Wait, what? How did you…?"

Harry chuckled. "Well, at first I thought that a simple _Finite_ would work. But it turned out that the Ministry was smarter than I gave them credit for."

"Harry!" Hermione chided, defensive of authoritative figures as always.

Harry chuckled before continuing with his solution to the Trace. "Well, anyway, I realize that the Ministry tracks magic by areas. So for example, if you do magic at your old neighborhood, the Ministry will get on you like a hound because magic activating your Trace could only be caused by you, the only witch in the area. However, if I do it at Potter Manor, they really don't care because the house elves and the magic surrounding the place will interfere with the Trace on a constant basis anyway. So you can do magic here, too. For many pureblood witches and wizards, the Ministry trusts the parents to discipline them when they do magic. That also holds for places like Diagon Alley and the like."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock at how much Harry knew about the Trace. It was as if Harry had been studying its nature for a while now. "You researched the Trace so that you can figure out a way to break it?"

Harry hesitated. "Kinda. I couldn't break it completely, but I did the next best thing. I concluded that the Trace might be affecting just the area surrounding me. I mean it makes sense. After all, it does not actually keep track of whether the magic is from me specifically or else the Ministry would've been able to tell whether magic is from an underage wizard or another source in the same house. Therefore, the only plausible explanation would be that any magic that comes in contact with this 'field' surrounding me would create a disturbance that would alert the Ministry. So I borrowed an idea from the _Partis Temporus_ spell which creates a temporary gap in magical protective barriers. The barrier just like moves aside you know."

Hermione gaped, understanding dawning upon her. "No, you didn't! That's brilliant…"

Harry grinned. "I did some adjustments on the spell so that it becomes a _property_ of the Trace field to create a gap around magic, rendering it completely useless because if magic can't touch the field, the field can't alert the Ministry. I casted the charm on the field here so that the Ministry would turn the other way. Then I tested it out in a Muggle neighborhood at night. I received no notice, so I assumed it worked." He paused before seemingly going into thinking mode. "Of course, I suppose there could be other logical solutions to the Trace…" Snapping back to the conversation at hand, he suddenly asked, "Do you want to use magic, too?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. She didn't want to break such a big rule in the Wizarding World, but she wanted to use her magic really badly, too, without worrying about being expelled. But what if Harry's spell actually had terrible side effects? "Harry, are you sure this will work right…?"

Harry nodded firmly. "I know so."

"Harry, you confuse me sometimes. How do you know such things and yet you say that you were scared to death when you faced the troll?"

"It's called experience, Hermione. I never faced a troll before. I never had experience in dueling. I never had to be in a situation where I had to come up with a spell in a split second while my life's in danger. Knowledge is great, but if you don't have experience, it's almost useless." Harry twirled his wand in his hand. "On the other hand, I've been experimenting with and modifying spells ever since I got my wand. A year isn't a lot of experience, but the modifications needed weren't that advanced."

There was silence before Hermione said quietly, "I do want to use my magic over the summer."

Harry grinned and began performing the spell over her. It turned out that it wasn't nearly as complex as she thought it would be. At her request, he lent her his notes and then asked, "Are you up for some adventure today?"

"I was hoping you planned something for us to do," Hermione replied. "Not that I don't love your house, Harry." She waved her wand to hang up all her clothes in the wardrobe and felt thrilled at the freedom of using magic without worrying about getting in trouble.

Harry chuckled. "Whenever you're done, meet me by the front door. I want to show you the full extent of the Potter Estate." With that, he left her alone to settle in.

Hermione remembered that Harry had said that he wanted to show her a Cerberus mother and her cubs and wondered if he actually was going to show her one – after all, such creatures are dangerous to go near. She knew Harry had a special fondness for animals and magical creatures alike, but she questioned herself often whether he was reckless enough to go near a dangerous one without taking precautions. At the same time, she wondered what prompted Harry to love even dangerous animals so much. She herself loved animals, but Harry's gentleness and love for them were almost…scary. He risked his life to save a unicorn, one of his familiars was the largest venomous snake in the world, he had a close relationship with a phoenix (which is rarely domesticated), and he petted a Cerberus on the muzzle, telling it to have a good sleep. After she finished unpacking, she headed towards the front door and saw Harry waiting there. "So where are we going?" she asked.

Harry looked thoughtful before saying, "Let's visit the mountains."

Hermione nodded and followed Harry as they hiked through the bright forest. Harry had a pack with him, telling her that they'll be camping overnight. Harry led her to a clearing where Hermione saw a grey winged horse tied to a tree, calmly grazing. He took her hand and helped her mount it before untying the creature and mounting it himself. He sat in front of Hermione, holding the reigns as easily as if he had done the task many times before. "Hold on tight," he told Hermione before whispering softly into the horse's ear.

Hermione knew the horse could not understand a word Harry was saying to it. However, its ears were still, listening raptly to just the sound of Harry's voice. Then suddenly, Harry snapped its reigns smartly, and the horse trotted across the clearing before spreading its wings wide, taking flight. Hermione held onto Harry tightly, her eyes shut. When she finally opened them, wonder filled her as they flew through the clouds. She looked down and saw the land passing by them. It was beautiful, peaceful, and elating. She gasped when she saw a herd of unicorns in the distance, taking a drink from a lake. As she looked up towards the distant mountains, she saw flocks of some sort of magical birds. Then right below them, she saw the strangest sight. A normal mare, a vicious-looking griffin, and a young hippogriff were lying down in a pasture. The griffin nuzzled the mare's muzzle affectionately. It was the strangest sight ever. However, it was also…beautiful.

Harry explained softly, "Did you know that the horse is normally a prey for a griffin? Can you imagine how hard it is for the griffin and the horse to overcome their natural tendencies? However, in rare cases, almost impossibly rare, the griffin and the horse mate, producing a hippogriff. Hippogriff herds are fairly common because hippogriffs can breed together to form more hippogriffs. However, a hippogriff who is borne from a griffin and a horse…" He stopped. After a silence, Harry continued, his eyes shining, "Studying nature can teach us more than just scientific facts. Sometimes, when I look at that family, I'm reminded that it's not impossible for natural enemies to become friends. If a griffin and a horse, natural predator and prey, can overcome such natural tendencies, why can't we humans do the same with our social and natural tendencies?"

"What are you thinking, Harry?" Hermione asked anxiously. He couldn't be thinking of befriending Voldemort, is he?

Harry closed his eyes. Then he replied, "For the most part, I'm thinking about Gryffindors and Slytherins and the animosity between them. Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin used to be friends, you know. Not just friends – the closest of friends. Then, they fell apart because of differing views toward muggleborns. It's sad, but it shows something about human nature. Since then, people who are sorted into Gryffindor and Slytherin are natural enemies. My question is why are we continuing the feud between two people who lived centuries before us? Surely, not all Slytherins are bad, just as not all Gryffindors are good." Harry gave a shuddering sigh, recalling Pettigrew, a Gryffindor. Pettigrew had been a close friend of his father but later betrayed him. "If you dissolve all the Houses, I have a feeling that some of the Gryffindors and Slytherins would become best friends."

"What about you and Voldemort, Harry?"

"I know that that would be taking it too far, Hermione. Overcoming social boundaries and natural tendencies is a little different than being stupid, although the line is rather vague," Harry assured the witch, laughing when Hermione gave a relieved sigh. Soon he landed the horse by a huge lake. "A sea serpent lives in this lake, but it won't attack us," Harry said. "Sea serpents have never been known to hurt people." With that said, he waved his wand and erected a tent. "Ladies first."

Hermione lifted the flap of the tent, expecting a small space with sleeping bags, when she gasped. It looked like a three-room house – containing a small kitchen, a bedroom with two twin beds, and a bathroom.

Harry entered next and said, "What do you want for dinner?"

Hermione turned to face him and nearly died of laughter. Harry grinned at her, wearing a chef's hat and an apron. He looked absolutely ridiculous in the outfit, but it was cute, seeing an eleven-year-old boy dressed up as a chef. "Harry, what are you doing?" she gasped through her laughter.

"What does it look like?" he asked. "I'm cooking."

However, as ridiculous as he looked, she could only be amazed at dinner. Harry was a very good cook. No, he was _amazing_. He made some sort of fish dish (no magic), but that was all she knew about it. "Where did you learn to cook?" she asked curiously.

"I've known how to cook for as long as I can remember," Harry replied simply. The truth was that if he hadn't known how to cook at the Dursleys, chances are that he wouldn't have survived. After the Dursleys, he had had a phobia of cooking because every time he stood in front of a stove, he could feel Uncle Vernon's breath down his neck and his hands would itch from memories of being pressed to the hot surface. However, as part of his recuperation afterwards when his relatives advised him to face his fears and accept his past, Harry had struggled for months at the stove, trying to get over his skittish habits. It wasn't easy, but eventually, it got better.

The house elves, determined to help their master, encouraged him to experiment with the food. Soon, he actually found cooking fun, especially when he learned to cook through his senses rather than his memory. He had memorized smells of many spices and herbs and realized that he can use his sense of smell to combine the spices in different ways to produce a pleasing taste. He didn't always follow a recipe.

At this point in time, he had completely recovered from his phobia of cooking. In fact, he enjoyed it so much that he insisted on doing his cooking, despite the elves' protests. His mother's portrait also played a big role. She told him some of her favorite foods to make, and Harry always liked to think of it as eating his mother's homemade meals.

After dinner, Harry flicked his wand, saying, "_Scourgify_!" The dishes were as clean as new.

…

The next day, as they approached the mountains, Hermione asked curiously, "Harry, why are we going to the mountains?"

"They are the home to the most magnificent yet dangerous creatures of the Wizarding World." Harry smiled, almost dreamily. "Dragons."

Hermione started. "What? Are you mad, Harry?" she cried. "Only trained dragon keepers should work with dragons. They are labeled as most dangerous, or known wizard killers, by the Ministry!"

However, Harry only shrugged. "Okay. They labeled werewolves the same thing, so I wouldn't trust the Ministry to get their labels right." When Hermione only raised her eyebrows at him in confusion, Harry shook his head. "Ever since the invention of the Wolfsbane Potion, there is no reason to fear werewolves. They are human, just like us, except for their 'furry little problem' once a month. However, the Ministry has been treating werewolves very poorly, and that might be their undoing one day."

"Harry, that's one thing, but these are dragons! There's no potion to ease their violence! They'll kill you without a second thought!" Hermione cried.

"This particular one won't," Harry said confidently. He led her down to the valleys between the mountains. As he did so, he explained to her, "One of my more recent relatives from my father's side took a liking for dragons. He worked with dragon keepers in Romania and made a deal with them to bring quite a few species over here. Not all of them mind you – especially not the ones that have a taste for humans. He had to make sure that precautions are in place and stuff. The dragons can't leave the mountain ranges, and he had to make sure that each dragon has enough territory to keep it happy."

"This is really dangerous!" Hermione was starting to really doubt her friend's sanity.

Harry smiled before taking out a wooden flute and sitting down on the ground. He put the flute to his lips and blew, playing a long, sweet melody. His eyes were closed.

Hermione shifted fearfully. She had a feeling they were in a territory of a dragon. How reckless can he be? She looked all around her, searching for any signs of a dragon while scooting closer towards Harry.

Suddenly, from below them, in a flash of large, magnificent wings, a beautiful white dragon shot up into the sky, slowly descending to where they were situated and then landing a few yards away from them. Hermione was paralyzed with fear and awe. The dragon must be forty feet long. It was slender with a wingspan of around thirty feet. The most bizarre thing about it was that it had multicolored eyes with no pupils.

"H-Harry," she squeaked.

Harry opened his eyes and smiled. "Hi," he breathed. "Sorry I haven't visited for so long."

The dragon walked towards him gracefully on all four feet. It then lowered itself onto the ground comfortably, its jaws only several feet away from their heads. Hermione could feel its hot breath upon her head.

Harry stood up and slowly, the dragon lowered its majestic head for Harry to pet it. "Hermione, this is Ferdinand."

"That dragon has a name?" Hermione asked faintly.

Harry nodded happily. "Ferdinand is an antipodean opaleye. Opaleyes aren't really aggressive. They don't kill unless they're hungry, and even then, they prefer sheep and large animals to humans."

"Harry, surely you didn't just find it one day and decide to befriend it, right? That…that would be really careless and reckless of you!"

Harry shook his head. "I found a gray egg one day around here and realized that it was an opaleye egg. They're one of the least aggressive dragon breeds out there, so I reckoned that I'd just look after it until it was old enough to defend itself. I hatched it and fed it in a cave around here. He could breathe fire after six months and fly after twelve. I remembered I was like you, too. I was afraid that he was going to eat me or something when he's hungry, but he never attempted to, which encouraged me to come visit him every once in a while – even after he's full grown. If he was hungry, he went off to hunt and then came back to keep me company during my visits." Harry then said softly, "It's amazing, right? One of the most fearsome creatures in the Wizarding World befriending a human. It shows that even some of the most fearsome, terrifying creatures don't bite the hand that feeds them. Of course, dragons can't be domesticated, so I can never call Ferdinand my pet. I can only call him my friend."

Hermione stared at Harry, who seemed to almost hug the dragon's head as he scratched Ferdinand's jaw. To her surprise, the dragon's eyes closed as if it felt at peace in its position. She continued to stare at the scene in disbelief. Harry was probably the closest to ever domesticating a dragon.

"Hermione."

She looked into Harry's eyes. He was so young, but his eyes held so much wisdom behind them.

"If you are kind, Hermione, animals will bind to you. Maybe not every single one you meet, but it will be a natural instinct for them to," Harry said softly. "In a way, that's also the same for humans."

After a few minutes of thinking, Hermione took a deep breath and came closer towards the dragon. If Harry was sure about this, she'll trust his judgment. She laid a hand on Ferdinand's long snout, feeling his breathing. His multicolored eyes locked onto hers, and strangely, Hermione had a feeling that he liked her.

Harry smiled.

…

Harry motioned for Hermione to follow him behind a bush above a cave. "Wait for it," he whispered.

Below them, a huge Cerberus walked out, sniffing the air cautiously. Then it turned back inside and gently nudged out three cubs, each with three heads. As the mother nuzzled her cubs gently, Hermione felt something stir inside her. The Cerberus was no longer a huge monster…it was only a mother protecting her young.

"It's sometimes hard to imagine ferocious-looking creatures like that having such human emotions," Harry commented. "Many creatures have always been misunderstood like that."

"Harry, why are you showing me all this?" Hermione asked, curious. "I mean, what am I supposed to do with all this? If a Cerberus attacks me, I'm not just going to not hurt it just because it has human emotions."

"No, Hermione, that's not why I'm showing you all this," Harry replied simply. "I'm simply showing you how misunderstood many of these creatures can be by wizards and witches. They seem to think many of them are nothing other than teeth and claws. But there is another side to them. They are more than their appearances – which they are borne with and cannot control."

"Harry, why are you so fond of such creatures? I mean, normally, wizards and witches would run in the opposite direction of all this stuff."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, Hermione. People also ran in the opposite direction when they found out I have a snake as a familiar. Wizards and witches tend to only look at the outside of an individual, but not many bothered to think about the inside. Underneath the skin, many are the same…not all but many."

Understanding suddenly dawned upon Hermione. Harry understood that underneath deceptive exteriors, many people and creatures feel the same human emotions – fear, gratitude, and even love and affection. He saw himself in the eyes of some of the most misunderstood creatures. That did change one's perceptions a lot.

After that scene, they returned to Potter Manor, where Harry sat down on an armchair and grinned at Hermione. "I hoped you enjoyed the experiences," he said. Then he leaned back, his eyes closed as he seemed to be troubled. "When I first learned that I'm a wizard, I thought the Wizarding World was perfect. This world had saved me and gave me knowledge of who I am. But I also realized that it had flaws – just like the muggle world – corruption, prejudice…"

_Why is he thinking about all this?_ Hermione thought.

"I always wanted to be normal, Hermione. I don't want fame and glory. So don't misunderstand me when I say this – I want to make a difference in this world." He paused to allow her to take it all in before continuing on softly, "I wanted to be normal, but especially after the incident with Quirrell, I realized something. I can't just sit back when I know that changes need to be made. It just wouldn't sit well on my conscience. I can't sit back, knowing what's out there…"

Hermione had a feeling that Harry didn't show this side of him very often. Somehow, she believed that he would do all those things he wanted to…and more. "Harry," she said quietly, "you're not normal, but that's what I like the most about you. You can do all that. All that you've done so far showed that you have capabilities that not many others have."

Harry turned his green eyes toward her, meeting her brown ones almost in question. "Hermione, I'm an eleven-year-old boy who reads ahead of the class."

"You like…protecting people," she said carefully. "Even at the risk of your life because you understand and sympathize with pain and suffering. You understand how desperate someone is when they hope for help in their fear. Despite everything you've been through, Harry, you still have more compassion than anyone else I know. Such passion, Harry, always yields results."

Harry smiled. "That was what Dumbledore said."

"I told you he was brilliant."

…

Harry waited patiently for Hermione to finish packing. Then he led her outside before hooking his arm around her arm and lifted his other arm in the air. Ferlin appeared on his raised arm, and in a burst of fire, they reappeared inside the Grangers' front door because Harry didn't want Muggles to see them appearing out of nowhere in flames.

Hermione flung her arms around him, hugging him, and said, "I did enjoy the experiences. Thank you."

**Please review!**


	10. The Teachings of the Flamels

**The Teachings of the Flamels**

**As a note, Harry knew what happened to Sirius – he's framed and in jail. This was briefly mentioned in Chapter Two. Harry, at this point in time, is the only one living human who can make any difference to Sirius's status. However, we have to keep this in perspective. If he asks the Ministry to give Sirius a fair trial, even through the intervention of Dumbledore, no doubt they would just blow him off. Fudge doesn't take the words of underage wizards seriously. That, and the fact that he doesn't have enough evidence to free Sirius, except for his parent's portraits, who told him that they changed secret keepers. If we can look inside Fudge's mind, we can hear him say, "This wizard is underage, and the only evidence he has is talking portraits of his parents." So, in order for Harry to do anything, he'll need real evidence – Pettigrew himself, whom he knew is a rat with one finger missing.**

Harry was waiting at the train station for his mentor to arrive and pick him up. Going all the way to Devon had been a long trip, and he _should_ be tired. However, at the moment, he felt only excitement. He was going to study under the greatest alchemist who ever lived! It was the chance of a lifetime! The only things Harry took with him on this trip was a trunk full of clothes, some books on advanced Transfiguration, and the Sorcerer's Stone, just in case Nicolas wants to teach him about how the stone was created, its properties, how to brew the Elixir of Life, etc.

By the time he had arrived at the station, the sun was already setting. Harry saw an elderly man approach him. White hair reached his shoulders and he had a white beard and mustache, although, unlike Dumbledore's, they only reach his collar bone instead of his belt. He was thin, and despite his old age, he seemed energetic and sprightly. Sharp, dark brown eyes peered over thin rimmed glasses at Harry kindly. "Mr. Potter?" he asked Harry.

"Yes, Sir," Harry said, starstruck for several seconds. The figure of Nicolas Flamel, although he seemed carefree and kind, commanded respect. He was wearing emerald green robes with gold patterns on them, but he didn't receive any stares from the Muggles in the station. It was quite likely that he had cast a notice-me-not charm on himself before he arrived.

"Come with me. My home is not far, so we'll walk and talk if you don't mind." Nicolas gestured to Harry to follow him on a dirt path towards a simple house on the horizon, which surprised Harry, who thought that he would've been rich after creating the Sorcerer's Stone. It was obvious that the man did not care for money or luxuries. After a brief silence, Nicolas asked him, "My boy, why have you decided to learn alchemy?"

"It's mostly for just knowledge, Sir."

"I certainly wouldn't find that answer very common among adolescents," Flamel stated simply. After another silence, he added, "I would like to thank you for going through so much effort to protect the stone. Did you take with you here?"

"Yes, Sir. I thought it might be useful to bring it to the lessons," Harry replied, blushing. "You're welcome, Sir, but I didn't even need to go after the stone. Professor Dumbledore's protection had sufficed. Quirrell couldn't have gotten the stone even if I wasn't there. It was just my doubts…"

"Mr. Potter, I have taught Albus for several years, and I can tell you one thing for certain. He makes mistakes. It had been up to chance whether the protections suffice or not, and I must say, you had done a brave thing – a hard thing, but the right thing. People have always believed that Albus was the greatest wizard of modern times, and he is. However, he is also human. Had you gone down the chambers without first trying the adults, I might have considered it arrogance. However, had you gone down there as a last result?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, Sir."

Flamel smiled, satisfied. "This time, your efforts may have been unneeded. However, you still did the right thing – all efforts were aimed to protect the stone and nothing more, which is the only reason I'm entrusting you with the stone. I trust you shall not abuse its properties?"

"No, I won't, Sir," Harry replied promptly.

Flamel chuckled. Then he said quietly, "My boy, it has been a long time since I taught. Teaching has always been a passion of mine, but I stopped when I was afraid my teaching would result in people creating more such stones – which would fuel their greed and selfishness. You are the best parting gift for me from this world. A student, and not just a student – a student that I am certain will use the knowledge of alchemy for good."

"Sir, I don't mean to be rude, but since the Sorcerer's Stone has already been made and stuff, I was thinking about just learning alchemy for knowledge…not exactly for usage," Harry said hesitantly. "I mean the goals of alchemy has already been achieved and all. I can't really use alchemy for much else."

Flamel laughed again. "My boy, the Sorcerer's Stone was only an end result of many years of work. True, the goals of the alchemists have already been reached. However, the knowledge that was needed to get there can be used for more than just the Elixir of Life and gold. Alchemy incorporates knowledge of muggle chemistry, potion-making, and transfiguration. As such, alchemy is more than just the creation of a stone."

Now, Harry was very intrigued. As they reached the simple house, night had already fallen. Flamel led Harry into the dining room and said, "You must be very hungry."

At that, an old woman came from the kitchen, carrying a plate of some chicken, a loaf of bread, and some vegetable soup. She had white hair tied up in a tight bun and gray eyes that reminded Harry of a stormy sky. However, she appeared kind and friendly as she said to him, "Hello, Harry. After you've eaten, I'll show you your room."

"Thank you," Harry said gratefully. He wondered if there were house elves in the Flamel house. After all, Nicolas and Perenelle, as a family, were very old. As he ate, he conversed with the elderly couple. Afterwards, Nicolas stood up to retire early. Perenelle waited for Harry to finish before leading him upstairs to his room. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Mrs. Flamel."

Perenelle's cheeks turned a slight pink before she said, "Please call me Perenelle. Nobody ever calls me by that other name."

"Oh, er, thank you, Perenelle," Harry said, feeling awkward calling her by her first name.

Perenelle beamed at him and left him to unpack. Harry sighed and waved his wand, hanging up his clothes, folding his undergarments into the drawers, and placing the Sorcerer's Stone and some Transfiguration books on the table next to his bed.

As the night sky darkened from dark blue to black, Harry stayed up, casting a _Lumos_ spell over the pages of his Transfiguration book so that he could read. If he timed out his studies correctly, he'll be able to do his full Animagus transformation in about two years, a year earlier than James, but only because he had started his training earlier. According to his father's portrait and, on rare occasions, Professor McGonagall, Harry was quite proficient at Transfiguration, likely as talented as James was. His father had been really good at Transfiguration and was a favorite of McGonagall, though she was often exasperated with his mischievous nature when he was younger.

Harry waved his wand and practiced some advanced Transfiguration spells before going to sleep. His knowledge of Transfiguration should be about beginner's N.E.W.T level at this point. He had been focusing on Transfiguration for several months now, studying it in all his free time, and the fact that he could perform simple human transformation spells at such an early age made him quite proud of himself. However, he still had a long way to go. Despite studying the subject's theory for several years and practicing its spells so often, he wasn't even close to Animagus status.

…

Harry awoke the next day, and after freshening up, he went downstairs. It was very early in the morning, but he heard music ringing through the house. It was peaceful, sweet music done on a piano. He went into the living room and found Perenelle there, her fingers playing the keys as if they were part of her.

The music was beautiful, as if a magic was there. However, there was no wand or any sign of magical traces. Harry had never heard something so good in his life. He played a flute to call Ferdinand the dragon. However, it didn't hold such magic in it; it was just that – a way to call for his dragon friend.

Suddenly, the music stopped and Harry was snapped out of his trance. Perenelle turned to him. "Come over here if you want to learn," she said simply. Harry guessed that she wasn't a woman of many words. He obeyed and went over to sit down next to her.

Perenelle gestured to the music sheets. "Can you read notes?"

Harry nodded.

"Have you ever played an instrument before?"

Harry nodded. "A flute…but I can't play it as beautifully as you can on this piano. It's really emotional."

Perenelle smiled before saying, "First you need to know how to play the piano. It's different than other instruments because it's easy to learn but very hard to master. Learning how to play it is simple, but mastering it takes many years." With that, she began their piano lessons. Harry practiced in all his spare time, addicted to Perenelle's beautiful music and determined to play the instrument as good as she can.

After several weeks of practicing chords and exercises, Harry was able to play simple songs with varying levels of emotional display. Some he could play with much joy and frivolousness. However, on others, the music sounded dead. Perenelle commented, "Your fingers are strong and nimble now, but you'll need to keep doing the exercises to keep them that way. Now that you've gotten simpler pieces down, let's go a little more advanced, shall we?" She gave him several music sheets – "River Flows in You."

Harry took them and asked, "What does it sound like?"

Perenelle took his place in front of the piano and began to play. Again, Harry was in awe of the emotional display. Unlike the simpler pieces that he learned, this one allowed deeper emotions to show through. "Now, you try," she said.

With that, Harry began learning that song. It took him a long time but eventually, he memorized that song by heart.

"Put your heart in it. Allow your fingers to run free and to reflect how you want the music to sound – what emotions you want it to have," Perenelle said when he began to get frustrated by the dryness of the song. "If you allow emotions to fill you up and run to your fingers, your emotions will show through the music. It's like every attempt you make at anything. You have to have heart in it; allow your love of what you're doing to fill you."

Harry closed his eyes. He just wished he could make it as passionate as it can be. "Perenelle, what is this song supposed to be about?"

Perenelle smiled. "Love. Your love for someone."

"Like a romantic love?" Harry asked.

"Usually." Perenelle added thoughtfully, "However, why does it have to be? A river flows in anyone you love. If it helps, think of someone you love as you focus on the music. Synchronize them so that the music reflects your heart."

Harry nodded. He could do that. In fact, he had a feeling he knew of one person who would match the song very much – his mother. He loved her, and he hoped it would work for the song. With that he began to play. At first, the music was empty…however, he tried to feel his mother in the song – as if the song communicates her love for him and vice versa. Harry loved the feeling as he realized that his fingers were becoming one with the instrument; they were all part of him. He could feel a magic coming from such an ordinary muggle instrument. He could feel it charging through his fingers, which were almost moving on their own in tune with his emotions.

After he finished, there was a silence before Perenelle said, "Learning piano songs follows a simple process. Exercises keep your fingers nimble and strong. Then, learn the song with your mind. Then play it with your heart." She handed him a binder. "There are exercises and some more songs for you to continue your learning. I won't need them anymore."

"Thank you, Perenelle."

Perenelle smiled. "If you can put that much passion and heart into everything you do, you will accomplish many things."

Harry widened his eyes in surprise.

"You have the potential to be a great wizard because you have so much passion to do what is right – which is not always easy. Don't ever stop being passionate for your cause."

…

As for the alchemy lessons, Harry was surprised at all the background information he had to learn before they can get to the real alchemy stuff. Due to his knowledge in Transfiguration and potions, he had to focus more on muggle chemistry to bring it up to speed. Nicolas was a good teacher, showing him the logic behind chemistry as well as how Transfiguration and potions utilize that science. By the beginning of August, Harry was relieved when his mentor finally told him that it was time to look into alchemy itself and its applications.

This was accomplished by studying the Sorcerer's Stone that Harry brought along. Nicolas used an unfamiliar style of teaching. He would ask Harry questions, leading up to a conclusion. He didn't lecture. Instead he allowed Harry to form his own conclusions with guidance. It was long and tedious and took about one and a half weeks, but Harry was able to understand how the properties of the stone allowed the creation of the Elixir of Life and the transfiguration of ordinary metals into gold. He also understood _how_ the stone did it. After Harry had been able to figure it out – a simplified overview of how Flamel had actually done it – Nicolas surprised Harry one day after one of their lessons.

"Mr. Potter, this concludes our lessons."

Harry was shocked.

Nicolas smiled at him. "You have gone quite far into Alchemy for a student who has only completed his first year in school. I admit that while you do not know the intricacies of such a science, you have understood the logic and the basic concepts behind it. You may not understand the process I have went through to create the stone's properties; however, you understand the properties needed and _how_ the stone created the Elixir and gold. From this point on, there is almost nothing I can teach you that you cannot teach yourself."

Harry was still in shock. He had loved having Nicolas as a teacher. The man knew what he was talking about and his teaching style allowed Harry to form a lot of conclusions about Alchemy on his own. This would allow him to use and experiment with Alchemical process for his own purposes outside of just Alchemy. He was similar to Flitwick in this way, encouraging experimentation and creativity with magic. According to Nicolas, if you know your end result, you can figure out your solution – after all, there are many different solutions to one problem. The man just doesn't stick to everything a textbook says.

Nicolas continued, "You are a bright student, Mr. Potter. Even earlier on in the mentorship, I saw this. You have already begun experimenting with magic, and I have only served to encourage such experimentation as well as provide guidance for your studies in alchemy. I have been proud to have been the teacher of such a talented student." He reached behind him and picked up a thick book on his desk. He fingered it lovingly before giving it to Harry. "My notebook," he said simply. "Just in case you needed some more guidance into alchemy that the books can't give you."

Harry accepted the notebook reverently. He was speechless for several minutes before he whispered, "Thank you."

Nicolas nodded. "You can stay here for a while longer or you can return home – whichever is preferable to you." As they walked towards the living room, Nicolas chuckled and said, "Oh, by the way, I would like to give you my compliments on finding a way around the Trace."

Harry gawked. "Sir, how did you know…?"

"My boy, I can feel your magic through the door of your room, you know! It was very controlled and could only come from the use of a wand!" Nicolas laughed at Harry's expression. "I assumed you came up with the solution yourself?"

"Yes." Harry was still in shock. Nicolas had surprised him so much by not being surprised that Harry was starting to wonder if it was due to his age. Harry supposed the older you are, the more things you see, and the less you're surprised by things.

"So, tell me. How did you do it?"

Harry told him.

"That is a great example of magical experimentation. You wanted to reach a result, and you came up with a possible solution and tested it. That is how all magic should be done." Nicolas sat down on a sofa and motioned for Harry to sit on an armchair. He peered calculatingly at Harry with sharp blue eyes, reminding him of Professor Dumbledore. "Harry, I have seen many things throughout my lifetime. Such a long life can make one blasé to many things that should give him passion. At the last Wizarding War, I was asked by Albus to join the Order of the Phoenix, an organization against Voldemort. However, I refused because I wanted no more part in violence. I was against Voldemort's ideals. However, I had seen much violence and terror in my lifetime, and I wanted to stay away from all that. I was a coward."

Harry was startled by such a confession. First of all, it was the first time that Nicolas ever used his first name. Second, the subject of conversation was completely off-topic.

Nicolas heaved a great sigh and said with a tinge of remorse, "I was too cowardly to stand up for my own beliefs. I should have joined the efforts against Voldemort."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that.

"Dumbledore had told me much about you, Harry," the old man said. "You are not a cowardly person. You know what your beliefs are and want to stand up for them. Do not change. Such willpower and courage to do such a thing even in the face of opposition are not easy to come by. Do not change, or else, it might give you many regrets later on in your life. You have talent, and you work hard to nurture such talent. However, how you use your gifts are more important than what your gifts are."

Harry was strangely reminded of Hermione when they separated during the journey after the stone. "That was what a friend told me," he said. "But, Sir, why are you telling me all this?"

"You are the son of two of the most prominent members of the Order of the Phoenix," Nicolas said simply. "And your determination to protect the stone from Voldemort reminded me of the war. You reminded me of myself. When I was much younger, Harry, I was like you. I was determined to stand up for my beliefs. I stood up for muggleborns during a time when wizards and witches hated them for their association with muggles, who were persecuting magical folk. But time wore me down. I want to tell you this so that you might not make the same mistake I did. Time will send you obstacles of all kinds – isolation, grief, violence…But never, Harry, lose your determination. You might want to do good in the world, but if you lose your determination, it's no good."

Harry nodded. He already knew that.

Nicolas stared outside a window before saying quietly, "Harry, I give you permission to use the stone. I trust your judgment in using it and that you will not abuse its properties."

**Please review!**


	11. The Muggle Protection Act

**The Muggle Protection Act  
><strong>

**As a note to keep in mind when reading this chapter, Hermione knows full well that Harry's family uses house elves. However, since she knows Harry's character, after he explained them to her, she didn't mind their slavery when they're treated kindly.**

Harry left the Flamels a week after his last lesson with Nicolas, returning to Potter Manor by phoenix Apparition. He landed on the front steps to his home and stretched, happy to be home. Opened the door and immediately, two house elves took his trunk, leaving him free to relax.

Harry took some of his more personal belongings and began to sort them with his wand. His Transfiguration books went back into his family's library, Nicolas's notebook was placed beside his bed, Perenelle's binder was placed on the piano in the living room…Harry took the Sorcerer's Stone and went downstairs into a basement that served as a potions lab. He placed it on a table, deciding to not use the stone unless necessary – just study it. Dumbledore was right…gold and immortality weren't so great after all although Alchemy might become very useful someday.

He went upstairs to his bedroom, feeling tired and hoping to rest up for the next day. He opened the lights and hung up his cloak, yawning. However, it wasn't long before he realized that he wasn't alone. He gave a start when he saw a house elf in the middle of his bedroom. Normally, he wouldn't find it too strange since the Potters' house elves often came in to clean. However, this was definitely not a family house elf. For one, his family's elves were very clean and two, they wear very high quality blue towels with the Potter crest on it. They do not wear dirty pillow cases that look like rags.

The house elf saw him and bowed low. "Harry Potter! Dobby has wanted to meet you for a long time…such an honor it is."

Harry felt his cheeks burn. It had been a while since someone treated him like a celebrity, and it was always embarrassing for him when they do that. "Er, who are you?" Harry asked politely."

"Dobby, sir! Dobby the house elf," the elf replied.

"Okay, Dobby. Is there a particular reason you're here?" Harry asked, sitting down on his bed. He was curious about Dobby and why he was here, but Harry was quite tired at that moment.

"Dobby has come to tell you, sir…it's difficult, sir…he wonders where to start…"

Harry stifled another yawn. "Well you can tell me what family you serve, where you came from…"

"Oh no, sir, Dobby cannot say! They do not even know Dobby is here. Dobby will have to punish himself later by slamming his ears in the oven doors…" Dobby blew his nose into his pillowcase pathetically.

Harry winced. He knew that the treatment of house elves was generally very cruel and brutal, but Dobby's statement was like a slap in the face by reality. As far as he knows, Harry himself never punished the Potter family elves in any way nor had he every ordered them to do it to themselves. And he doubted any of his family ever did. Occasionally, one might ask for a punishment like Holly did several years ago, but usually that ended up never happening. Overall, his elves were very content with their lot, which seemed to be the exact opposite of Dobby. "Is there any way I can help, Dobby?" he asked, despite knowing that the only way to free an elf was for its own to give him clothes. Maybe Dobby wanted him to help _trick_ his masters into giving him clothes since wizards would not easily give away such valuable servants...

Dobby began sobbing hysterically. "Harry Potter asked if he could help Dobby! Sir, Dobby has heard of your greatness, but of your goodness, he never knew…"

Harry's cheeks turned pink. The way Dobby was complimenting him made him feel very awkward. "Er…Greatness?"

"He is so modest!" Dobby was looking at him with eyes filled with adoration and admiration. "He speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He speaks not of the time when he saved the Wizarding World from chaos!"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, but I don't even remember it. No, really, it's the truth!" he said quickly, guessing that Dobby was about to go off on his humility or whatever.

"Harry Potter is so good and great…That's why Dobby has come here to warn you, sir! Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts! There is a plot. There is great danger at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Harry Potter is too great and good to be lost!" Dobby said.

Harry raised an eyebrow. That sounded so selfish that it was unthinkable, saving his own skin and leaving the danger to kill everybody else. Then he said firmly, though not unkindly, "I'm sorry, Dobby, but I can't do that. Hogwarts is where I belong."

"Harry Potter wants to go back to the school where he has no true friends? A school where the people isolated him and ignored him?" Dobby asked slyly.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his voice shaking slightly. It was as if the elf had just punched him in the gut. "It got better towards the end."

"But, Sir, are you really going back to a school that is quick to turn against you?"

"It's not just the school. My only friend is there!"

"You only friend, the only who never corresponded with you once over the summer?"

Harry was silent. It was true. Hermione never sent him a single letter although he had sent her several letters through Hedwig. She didn't even remember his birthday. Of course, he didn't mind that he didn't get a present. It hurt more that she didn't seem to want to talk to him. However, it was quite suspicious how Dobby knew that. "Wait, how did you know about that?" he asked.

Dobby shifted uncomfortably. Then he took out a packet of letters.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He recognized Hermione's neat handwriting anywhere. "You intercepted my mail," Harry stated softly. However, his voice was so cold that Dobby winced. "What were you trying to do? Break our friendship apart by making me think that she forgot about me?"

Dobby backed away slightly. "Harry Potter must not get angry at Dobby. Dobby thought that if he thinks that his only friend doesn't care about him, he would not want to go back to Hogwarts. It is better if he is sad than dead!" Dobby winced when he looked into Harry's angry eyes. They held so much rage…directed at him. The boy he wanted to protect was angry with him. It hurt.

"You're wrong then," Harry replied curtly. "I admit – it hurt when I never got responses back from her. But after she put her life on the line for me last year, you'll have to do more than that to convince me that she doesn't care about me. Now give me her letters back."

"Only if Harry Potter promises not to go back to Hogwarts!" Dobby insisted, still persistent.

"No." Harry stood up, and Dobby backed away to keep the letters out of reach. However, Harry had no intention of chasing after the elf. "Keep the letters. The letters are only second to the real thing anyway." Harry raised his arm and Ferlin appeared on it. He wanted to clear any misunderstanding between Hermione and him that resulted from Dobby's clever plan.

"Sir!" Dobby's large eyes were pleading now.

Harry shook his head, his eyes still angry. "If that was all that you need to tell me on this visit of yours, then I should be leaving now." With that, flames engulfed him and he disappeared, appearing right inside Hermione's front door. Ferlin flew upstairs towards Hermione's bedroom, alerting her that Harry was there. The next thing Harry knew, Hermione flew down the stairs towards him.

"Harry!" She wrapped her arms around him before asking anxiously, "Did you get my letters and the present? In all your letters, it sounded as if you never even received my letters!"

"That was because I didn't. It's a long story," he said. With that, he began to tell her about Dobby and how he had been intercepting his mail, hoping to stop him from returning to Hogwarts.

"That's weird…but, Harry, I don't think you should think about it too much. I mean, you live with house elves and you read about them. You said it yourself that house elves can't disobey orders from their masters. So, if Dobby knew about the supposed plot, don't you think that his masters would've ordered him not to tell anyone? Yet he came to you anyway."

Harry seemed thoughtful. "You have a point. It's most likely that he's trying to prevent me from going to Hogwarts on his master's orders and that the warning and the mail interception were just means to that end. Although he said that his masters didn't know he was there, that could just be an act, or else he really would've had to punish himself. And why would he risk punishment and disobedience just to save me? He doesn't even know me."

"See, Harry? Nothing to worry about," Hermione said, grinning.

Harry laughed. "Well, when I left, I wasn't really worrying about it. I was too angry with him trying to break up our friendship."

Hermione beamed. "Oh, and Harry, that reminds me. Do you want to go to Diagon Alley together to shop for school supplies? My parents are coming along too."

"Sure, you free tomorrow?"

…

Although Harry had visited Diagon Alley many times before, he was never ceased to be amazed by it. The shops were bustling with people. The shops contained wondrous wares. "Let's go to Gringotts first," suggested Harry. "I need to make a withdrawal, and you need to exchange muggle money for wizarding money." So they entered Gringotts where Hermione helped her parents deal with the goblins while Harry went down to his vault. When he returned, they were finished and waiting for him.

Harry told them sheepishly that he needed to request something from Gringotts before they go. Hermione was surprised to find out that he had requested a financial record, which came in the form of a small book, the numbers of which changes whenever he made a withdrawal or a deposit. It also included family trees, properties, maps, etc.

"Harry, why do you need a financial record?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I just thought that it might be time for me to manage my money properly," he said. "I never thought about it much the last few years, but now, I feel like I should also understand my financial situation…as well as other things." He glanced inside the small book and then pocketed it in his robe.

Hermione nodded without questioning before asking, "So where should we go to first?"

"Tell you what. You said you needed some more parchment and ink. I want to stop by at Knockturn Alley for a bit. We'll both meet up at Flourish and Blotts." At first, Hermione was shocked that he shopped in Knockturn Alley, having heard that it was much "darker" than Diagon Alley. It took Harry some explaining, but by the end, everyone agreed to go their separate ways and meet back at Flourish and Blotts. Hermione led her parents off to Scribbulus Writing Instruments while Harry went off by himself into Diagon Alley's darker counterpart. He remembered his first visit here had been terrible. He had been curious and had begged Milly to take him there. She had agreed reluctantly.

When he had stepped into Knockturn Alley, he had been creeped out by the unusual people he met there. When one of them actually grabbed him to ask if he would like some poisonous candles, he had panicked and Milly promptly blasted the witch away. After that, he learned that to avoid mishaps like that, he would have to act confident while, at the same time, he had to exercise extreme caution and show that he was on guard and would not be taken down easily. Over the years, it became easier as he became familiar with the streets, the shops, and the vendors. Milly had accompanied him on his trips until he received his wand the summer before. After showing that he could perform the Stunning spell as well as the Shield Charm and the Disarming Charm with a fairly good proficiency, he was allowed to do his shopping as well as go to Knockturn Alley alone since he could easily call one of his house elves to his side in a time of need.

To Harry, Knockturn Alley was a great news source as well as a shopping area for things that he could not otherwise have gotten from Diagon Alley. He pulled his hood over his head, making himself appear like any other shopper in Knockturn Alley, while at the same time, keeping his head high and back straight to give an air of confidence and mystery. It made him look slightly older, too. He kept his hand tight around his wand as he went into a tiny pub next to the Spiny Serpent. Sometimes Knockturn Alley provided more news for him than the Daily Prophet does, especially on darker goings.

" – passed Muggle Protection Act! They're conducting raids everywhere!"

Harry went to the barman and asked politely, "Excuse me. Can I have some butterbeer please?"

The barman never questioned his age and readily handed him a tankard of butterbeer for two sickles. It was typical of people in Knockturn Alley. They don't question. As long as they get their money, everything's good with them. However, despite that, Harry never drunk in Knockturn Alley. It was too risky. Any lowered inhibitions on his part could result in him getting mugged or worse… Usually, he'd just vanish the alcohol while listening to the conversations around him. It would've been too suspicious to just sit there alone.

"We'll be put out of business, no doubt about it. All that to just protect some stupid Muggles from touching dark magical artifacts."

"Or it could be a good thing. I heard a lot of families are selling off their more incriminating artifacts. That would be good business for us since they're so desperate to sell them off that we can buy it for a cheaper price than they're actually worth."

Harry frowned. He'd read about the Muggle Protection Act in the Daily Prophet.

"Yes, but then, we'd have to be careful about not letting the Ministry catch us with those artifacts as well as our own!" The old warlock snarled back. He had slammed his fist onto the table, making his more civilized companion jump.

"Heard Arthur Weasley was mainly behind it. He proposed it just a few – "

"You heard right! Bloody blood traitors…the entire family!"

"Lucius was furious over that…"

"Yeah, I heard the Malfoys had to sell off a bunch of their dark artifacts to Borgin and Burkes. No doubt Lucius will find a way to sabotage Weasley's career. Weasley's an idiot he is, and it will serve him right…"

Harry stood up, thanking the barman before stepping outside the pub to return to Diagon Alley to meet up with Hermione at Flourish and Blotts. Harry had no intention of telling anyone what he'd heard. It was, after all, a matter between Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley. However, he couldn't help but feel that he should try to help stop Lucius from sabotaging Arthur's career, since the man had only been looking out for the well-being of Muggles.

"Harry!" Hermione waved him over to a long line outside of Flourish and Blotts.

"What's with the long line?" Harry asked. "I haven't seen this many people so eager to read since that day in the library when the Potions essay was due in thirty minutes."

"Harry, we're actually going to meet him!" Hermione squealed excitedly.

However, Harry was entirely unfazed. "Who?"

"Gilderoy Lockhart! You know, the man who wrote nearly all the books on our supply list! He must be a really good wizard!" Hermione was rambling off. "He's giving out autographs."

Harry raised an eyebrow but didn't refute her. He just quietly took a _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ off of a table and placed it into a shopping bag, waiting in line with Hermione. He had no idea why he was going up there other than Hermione had asked him to go with her, promising him that it will be worthwhile, and she had sounded so eager that he couldn't say 'no.'

"…his books are supposed to be really expensive. Are you sure we'll be able to afford all this, Mom? Five sets of Lockhart's books would wipe out our savings…" came a familiar voice.

Harry spun around. Fred Weasley was talking to his mom. It appeared as if the entire family was here, too, waiting to buy Lockhart's books as well as get autographs. "Hey, Fred," Harry said.

"Oh, hey!" Fred turned to him, grinning. "I see you're a Lockhart fan, too, along with Hermione Granger here."

Harry gaped. "What? No, I didn't even know about him until today…"

Suddenly there was a thud behind Fred and they both turned to see what had happened. Ginny, startled to see Harry Potter up close, had apparently tripped over her robes and was now on the floor, her school supplies all over the floor. Although Fred laughed, Harry didn't say anything; instead, he only bent down to pick up her stuff while she sat, frozen in place due to his close proximity to hers. While he thought it was strange behavior, Harry didn't comment. After several minutes, he handed her back her cauldron filled with all her school supplies.

When he came back in line, George said in his ear, "Ginny, our sister, wouldn't shut up about you all summer. Excited to meet you in person ever since she knew you were going to Hogwarts. She's a first year this year."

"Yeah, and she'll want your autograph," Fred added.

Ginny, who had been listening in on their conversation, turned scarlet.

Harry chuckled. "I doubt she'd want my autograph, even if I do give them out," he said kindly, loud enough for her to hear. "My handwriting looks like chicken scratch." This comment made Ginny smile, even though it was a very shy smile.

"Harry," Hermione hissed excitedly. "He's…he's there! You can see him!"

Harry turned to see Gilderoy Lockhart at his desk. Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him in front of Lockhart's signing desk. "H-hello, Mr. Lockhart," Hermione stammered eagerly.

Harry was shocked to see his normally uptight friend completely lose all control over this man. She was acting like a fangirl, which was not at all typical of Hermione. Someone was taking pictures of Lockhart for the Daily Prophet behind him. Harry shifted uncomfortably. He was eager to leave. However, when Lockhart looked up, his eyes widened as they looked onto the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Merlin, it's Harry Potter."

Harry backed away. He didn't have a good feeling about this. The next thing he knew, Lockhart grabbed him by his arm and pulled him to his side for pictures. "Now, when young Harry came into Flourish and Blotts, he had no idea that he was going to receive my entire set of works…" Lockhart handed Harry a stack of books, which made Harry's knees buckle under their weight. "…free of charge! But that's not all! This year, he will have the real magical me teaching him Defense Against the Dark Arts at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Smile for the camera, Harry! Together, we'll make the front page!"

"Wait, sir, I don't want to…" Harry stood stiffly the entire time, sending Hermione looks of plea for help. However, she was too busy grinning at her friend being acknowledged by her idol to notice that Harry just wanted to get away. Finally, having enough of the humiliation, Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Lockhart's back, shifting his body slightly to hide his movements – it wouldn't be good for someone to see him do underage magic in the book store. The next second, Lockhart was hanging upside down in the air. Harry pretended to be in shock. "Oh, I'm…what's going on, sir? I'm sure someone will be able to get you down soon. I'll need to finish my shopping, so I'll see you later." With that, he marched over to Hermione, who was standing next to Ginny by the shelves. "That is going to be the last time I'm ever going to approach a man for autographs." He dropped the set of Lockhart's works into Ginny's cauldron, knowing that a whole set of Lockhart's books would save her family a lot of money. "Here, I can get my own set…"

Hermione looked back at Lockhart. "Harry, did you…?" She looked up at Harry, who was standing on a ladder, skimming over books on human Transfiguration.

Harry opened a book to a random page to check out its contents, asking, "Did I what, Hermione?"

"Harry, Lockhart's turning red! Get him down!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry turned towards Lockhart before flicking his wand in his direction. In a second, Lockhart was in an undignified heap on the ground. When he saw Hermione's disapproving look, he chuckled nervously, ruffling the hair on the back of his head. "It was the only way I could think of to get away from him…"

"I don't think you should go around jinxing your future teachers."

"Oh, c'mon, Hermione! Can't you see that he's just using me to boost his fame? I want none of it!" Harry defended his actions.

"He's already famous though! Why would he need to use you? Didn't you see what he did in his books?"

"Some people are just drunk on fame. Lockhart is an example of that – vain and self-obsessed," Harry replied, glancing disdainfully in Lockhart's direction. "I'm just glad that Dumbledore placed me in Potter Manor instead of some wizarding family who would treat me like a celebrity. As far as I'm concerned, the only reason I'm even touching his books is because it's required." He continued to skim through some more Transfiguration books before moving onto the section on Defense. "Hey, I didn't know they have an updated version of the countercurse handbook!"

Ginny whispered to Hermione, awestruck, "He jinxed Lockhart? Isn't he not allowed to use magic because he's underage?"

"He found a loophole," Hermione replied absentmindedly. She was still looking exasperated at Harry's lack of respect towards Lockhart.

When Harry stepped down from the ladder with an armful of books, which did not include Lockhart's books, he saw Ginny look at him with starstruck eyes. Seeing him looking at her, Ginny, startled for the second time that day, jumped and knocked over a stack of books behind her. Blushing furiously, she began to pick them up. Harry didn't comment. He only stacked his books on the floor before assisting Ginny and Hermione in stacking up the fallen books. Then he went back up to the Defense section. "There's more about his favorites and random accomplishments than defense!" Harry snorted in disgust, flipping through pages of one of Lockhart's books. However, he took down the stack of Lockhart's books.

"Well, if it isn't the Weasel Family…" came a drawling voice.

Harry, who was hidden behind his armful of books, recognized that voice anywhere.

Draco Malfoy was talking to Ginny. "I'm surprised your family is here. These books must be way out of your league," he said, gesturing to the pile of Lockhart's books in Ginny's cauldron. "Did your family sell the house to buy that set?"

Ginny's face turned red.

Harry, who finally realized that he could've just used a lightening charm on his books, did so before laying them on a nearby table. He and Malfoy hadn't spoken since that day when Harry caught the Remembrall from him. Malfoy never paid much attention to him, both fearing him because of the Sasha incident and not caring about whatever he does because Harry hadn't been popular in school. Jealous of his talent, though, he was, he never gave Harry too much of a hard time in school.

"Oh, and Potter, the famous celebrity walking into the humble Flourish and Blotts and getting put on the front page of the Daily Prophet," Draco sneered, turning to him and knowing that Harry wouldn't try anything in a crowded shop.

"Leave him alone, Malfoy. He didn't want any of that!" Ginny spoke up.

It was the first time Harry heard her speak out loud, but it made him smile.

"Oh, look, Potter. You've got yourself a girlfriend!" Draco sneered.

Ginny turned even redder.

"So that's how you got the books, didn't you? You got your boyfriend to buy them for you!"

Harry glared at Draco. "Lockhart gave them out for free. If you're famous enough, maybe he'll give you a full discount, too." He couldn't believe how cruel Draco was. He had thought that the incident on the train last year was just ignorance. Here, he was attacking Ginny at all her weak points.

Draco's pale cheeks tinged with pink.

"What have we got here?" A man who looked like an older version of Draco appeared behind him. "Ah, the Weasley's daughter…where's your disgrace of a father?" Lucius asked haughtily. He rummaged inside Ginny's cauldron and pulled out a battered looking Transfiguration textbook. "Tell me – with the extra raids he undertook, what's the point of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if he isn't even being paid enough for it?"

"We all know who the real disgrace in this shop is, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said, his voice steady. He understood what Malfoy was talking about – the raids due to the Muggle Protection Act. "We're just too polite to mention that it's you."

Lucius turned to look at him, his eyes flashing. Then he drawled coldly, "Well, if it isn't Harry Potter…the one responsible for the fall of the Dark Lord…"

Harry glared. "You know, 'Dark Lord' was what the Death Eaters call Voldemort."

"Brave boy, aren't you, calling him by name?" Lucius narrowed his eyes.

"Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself," Harry replied. "And I heard you were selling off some dark objects in your possession because of the Muggle Protection Act. Don't you think it's evidence enough that you were a Death Eater? Or maybe the court should have looked for a Dark Mark on your arm. I don't think Voldemort would've marked those under the Imperius Curse." Unknown to many people in the school, Harry, like Draco, can pick out weak points in people. He can use it to his advantage, although he rarely does. Harry knew about Lucius's trial as a Death Eater. By insinuating that he was a Death Eater with small bits of evidence and taunts, Harry could see fury and even panic flash across Lucius's eyes.

"You best watch yourself, boy, or you'll end up like your parents," Lucius replied furiously.

"I would hope I do," Harry shot back. "They were a great witch and wizard. They died, fighting for a cause they believed in, and they died, loving me. I hope I can do the same thing, although preferably without the death part. On the other hand, you were a bully and then a coward. You're pathetic."

"Harry, are you ready?" Hermione asked, coming over. She had went off to talk to her parents after helping Ginny pick up her books.

Lucius glanced at her. "Miss Granger?" he asked Draco for confirmation. Seeing his nod, Lucius turned to Harry. "I see that you're a muggle lover, just like that fool Arthur Weasley."

Harry turned to see a man, whom he assumed to be Arthur Weasley, conversing with the Grangers. Then he turned back to Malfoy, Sr. "Yeah I am," he replied coolly. "And I think Mr. Weasley is brilliant for proposing the Muggle Protection Act. As you can probably tell, Mr. Malfoy, just because you have an opinion doesn't mean it's correct."

Hermione had been confused when she entered the middle of the verbal fight, but she was starting to catch on that Harry's patience was wearing extremely thin. "Harry, let's go," she said urgently. She grabbed his arm. However, he had no intention of leaving just yet.

Lucius glared before giving his final words to Ginny before leaving the scene, "The company your father keeps…and I thought your family could sink no lower." With that, he took Draco, and both left the shop, their robes billowing behind them.

Harry visibly relaxed. He had been so stretched during the course of that 'conversation.' Turning to Ginny, he said wearily, "Tell your father I said that, can you? That he was brilliant for proposing the act. I'll see you in school." With that, he went to the clerk and paid for all his books. He shrunk them and then left the shop with the Grangers.

**Please Review!**


	12. A Terrible Start

**A Terrible Start**

**Confringo, the Blasting Curse, causes objects to explode in flames. Incendio also produces fire. Either spell would produce fire.**

**In order to see why Harry isn't a hard, cold person due to all the abuse he suffered, people can thank Dumbledore's manipulations – yeah, we all hate it, but they can be good. When someone suffered such cruel treatment, they can end up two ways – they can hate the world and wish for everyone to suffer like they did, or their experiences would fuel their abilities to sympathize. Dumbledore placed Harry in Potter Manor, where its connections to the magical community would no doubt allow Harry to find the truth behind his parents' deaths. However he told the house elves not to break it to Harry directly but allow him to figure it out by himself. This would allow Harry to see the good things at Potter Manor, the things that he have longed for all his life – familial love – before he figures out the hard truth that someone was after him from birth. This would be able to stop Harry from breaking (thinking the world just hates him and ending up as an evil Harry) and going on one of the routes that many abused children would take – anger. Then because Harry experienced that sharp contrast between his life at the Dursleys and his life at Potter Manor, the situation allows Harry to take the other route – sympathy. He knew how it feels to come from a bad place and then end up in a good place. He would want that for all those who suffered.**

Harry left for King's Cross on September 1, and he was very excited to be back to Hogwarts. The place was imbued with magic for centuries, and well, it just felt like home, especially now when the students are more accepting towards him. As he arrived at King's Cross, he saw the Weasleys about to go through the barrier. As he approached them, the entire family gave him smiles, especially Arthur Weasley. Ginny had, no doubt, told them everything that had happened at Flourish and Blotts, including the fact that he supported the Muggle Protection Act. Harry got in line behind Ron and waited for his turn to get onto the platform.

"Hi," Ron said, feeling awkward around the boy he had been avoiding for the last year. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure how to say it. Finally, he blurted out, "Sorry about last year when, you know, I was avoiding you for most of it, even though we sleep in the same dorm. You're not bad, standing up for my sister and all."

"You were avoiding me? I didn't notice," Harry replied airily. "There were about three hundred people at Hogwarts, and all of them were doing the same thing." Harry remembered that it had been Ron's words that had nearly gotten Hermione killed by the troll last year. However, he didn't bring it up. Ron was trying to be friendly after all, and Harry couldn't bring himself to give someone the cold shoulder when they're trying to be sincere.

"Well, your snake is scary, and everyone hates the Slytherins, whose symbol is a snake. They're a nasty bunch altogether. And I mean, there's not a single Dark wizard who wasn't from that House…"

"I completely disagree," Harry stated simply.

Ron stared. "Don't tell me you believe the Slytherins can be good. Most of them are sons and daughters of Death Eaters! They follow You-Know-Who!" He couldn't believe it. He thought Harry knew this. Surely he noticed that the Slytherin table was full of nasty people. Malfoy and Voldemort were from there!

"Yeah, but I know some people who are from Gryffindor who became Death Eaters, too." Harry shrugged. "Besides, have you ever talked to any of them besides Malfoy? You didn't talk to me last year either, but was your first impression wrong?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yes, but you're in Gryffindor. The Hat must've known you were on the good side…"

Harry gave him a knowing look. "If I must remember correctly, the Sorting Hat said that those who are ambitious and cunning are in Slytherin. It never said those who are evil would be sorted into that House!" He noticed that Ginny and Molly had already gone through the barrier. "Hey, it's our turn to get through the barrier." With that, both of them ran towards the solid wall and the next thing they knew, they were on the floor. People were giving them strange looks. "Well, that didn't turn out exactly according to plan," Harry muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "What's with the barrier anyway?"

"It must have been blocked somehow…" Ron looked anxiously at the clock. "The train's about to leave soon. What do we do?"

Harry shrugged calmly. "We can send a letter to Dumbledore, or we can just wait for your parents to get back to tell them what's going on."

"But, Harry, what happens if they won't allow us to go to school because we missed the train? We have to get to school before anyone finds out we missed the train! And what happens if no one will believe us that the barrier is blocked?" Ron asked, panicking. "Let's take my dad's car. He enchanted it to fly, so hopefully we can get to Hogsmeade station before the train does…"

Harry stared, his right eye twitching. Ron was a complete 180 degree turn from Hermione. That was the most unnecessarily reckless thing he'd ever heard from anybody. They'd be lucky if they don't break their necks and only receive a month in detention instead of expulsion. Harry sighed, deciding that Ron was hopeless in a time of crisis. "There are other methods of transportation, you know – ways that don't involve risking Muggles seeing us in a flying car," Harry said easily.

"It has an invisibility booster…"

"What happens if it doesn't work right?" Harry asked calmly. "Do you really want to chance being expelled? Come on. I got a better idea." He led Ron to an isolated corner where no one would look twice at them. He picked up a feather on the bottom of Hedwig's cage and, laying it on the ground, muttered, "_Portus_. There, this will take us to Hogsmeade Station. I don't think portkeys can take us into Hogwarts unless Dumbledore allows it to."

"Woah," Ron breathed in awe. "You know how to create a portkey?"

"It's an instant remedy whenever I want to go somewhere and I can't use the Floo Network," Harry lied. He would have used phoenix Apparition all the time if he wanted to. He'd even prefer Muggle transportation. But he had learned how to create a portkey just in case something like this happened. He didn't want people learning about his affiliation with Ferlin, and he and Ron were merely acquaintances at best…and it wouldn't do for Muggles to see a burst of bright flames consuming them out of nowhere.

"Blimey, but you're using magic out of school! That's underage magic!"

"Yes, Ron, but the Ministry doesn't keep track of this one because we're in a place fairly populated with wizarding folk. Wizards and witches come here all the time to drop off their kids. It is quite possible that one of them used magic or something, which can interfere with our Trace," Harry said promptly. "Unless it was reported in the news, the Ministry won't do anything to us." It was true, but it was not the complete truth, which was that Harry can use magic _anywhere_ without getting in trouble. He shrunk their luggage for easier travel and then grabbed hold of Hedwig's cage.

"That's bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed admiringly. "So do we just take hold of the feather then?"

Harry nodded. "One…Two…Three!" They both grabbed the feather at the same time, and both were sucked away. Anyone who saw them would just think they were imagining two kids standing there. The next thing they knew, they were both at Hogsmeade Station. "Well, I guess we wait around for the Hogwarts Express to arrive. I'll just go to Honeydukes." With that, he walked over to the sweets shop with Ron following.

He bought a box of chocoballs and was about to dip some into the vat of bat's blood soup, a dark red syrup, when he noticed Ron didn't buy anything. Judging by the look on Ron's face, it was obvious that he's slightly awkward and a little embarrassed about something. "Hey, you want some?" Harry offered, guessing that the problem might be monetary. The Weasleys were poor by wizarding standards and it's not likely that Ron has money on him. "I'm not used to eating a lot of sweets, so I don't think I can finish all this sugar." He gestured to the box.

Ron grinned happily. "Okay. Thanks."

Harry chuckled. He ate two of the large chocolate balls and gave the other three to Ron. Suddenly he felt Sasha stir underneath his robes. She was awake. She poked her head out of his sleeve and flicked her tongue out at Ron, who was busy dipping a chocoball in the vat of red syrup.

When Ron turned around, he jumped, his eyes wide in fear at Sasha's head being closer in proximity to him than he would have liked. Her forked tongue was flicking in and out about two feet away from his face. "H-Harry…" he whimpered.

"She's just curious about you. You are an interesting person, you know," Harry commented. "Er…do you have any rats or something on you, because I think she smells dinner?"

"_He has a rat on him."_

"Tell her to stay away from Scabbers!" Ron said, looking as if he was trying to shield one of his robe pockets. "He's my pet rat, and she can't have him!"

Harry chuckled. "Okay, okay…she won't. She's very trained. She won't attack pets – or else, Neville's toad would've been in her stomach a year ago. Of course, if your pet goes wandering around the halls at night, that will probably be the last you see of it. Sasha keeps the mouse and rat population down at Hogwarts better than any caretaker would." Then Harry muttered under his breath, "You would have thought Filch would be on great terms with her, but no..."

"Hear that, Scabbers? Stay away from her. Got it?" Ron said to his rat in his pocket. He turned back to Harry. "Scabbers doesn't do much. He's pretty useless actually, not like your snake…" He winced, looking back at Sasha again, who hissed proudly, seeming to understand that he was giving her a compliment.

Harry petted Sasha's head fondly and assured him, "She won't attack you."

"I know she wouldn't. Ever since she didn't attack Neville last year when he showed her the way to the hospital wing," Ron stammered. "It's just…she's still scary you know."

Harry laughed lightly. "Wait until you see her actually hunt something. Quicker and deadlier than lightning she is! But she's really friendly, too, you know. Try petting her."

Ron scooted back. "Er…no thanks." However, Harry was so persistent that Ron finally, tentatively touched Sasha's head with the tips of his fingers. She rubbed her head into his palm, and Ron whimpered on instinct before realizing that she wasn't biting him.

"Told you!" Harry said triumphantly. After that, he spent some time trying to get Ron to be more comfortable with Sasha. He even draped her over Ron's shoulders. Most of the time, Ron was terrified, staying stiff and still. However, the more time he spent around Sasha, the more he relaxed. Time passed quickly, and soon, Harry noticed that it was getting dark. "Hey, the train might be arriving any time soon." He led Ron to Hogsmeade Station and the two waited by the train tracks. They were silent until the train pulled into view.

Students burst out of the compartments and Harry searched for Hermione, whom he saw running towards him. "Harry, where were you?" she asked anxiously. "You weren't anywhere on the train!" When Harry explained to her what happened, she said in surprise, "That was weird! Who would want to stop you from getting onto the platform?"

Harry shrugged. "I had a lot of fun though. I took Ron Weasley along to Hogsmeade by portkey because we both needed to get here. He had wanted to take his dad's flying car, but I refused. We went to Honeydukes together, and then I introduced him to Sasha..."

"Ronald Weasley?" Hermione's eyes turned cold. She obviously hadn't forgotten Ron's mean comments to her last year.

Harry chuckled nervously before changing the subject quickly. "Anyway, let's go on one of the carriages."

Hermione looked around. "Are there horses…?"

"They're pulled by thestrals," Harry replied, climbing onto one of the carriages. "But you can't see them unless you have seen someone die firsthand and you fully understand and accept the concept of death."

"Can you see them, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I just heard that from some of the older students." He paused. "I don't know if I actually saw my parents die, but even if I did, I was too young to understand it anyway. I saw Quirrell die, but…I mean, I felt kind of bad the way that he died, but at the same time, I think that the circumstances in which he died prevented me from really, really understanding and accepting the concept..."

At that moment, Ron and Neville came over to ride in their carriage. When Ron was about to sit next to Hermione, he saw her glare at him and immediately switched over to sit next to Harry. For the most part, the ride to Hogwarts Castle was awkward. Hermione was cold towards Ron and ignored him the entire ride. Harry had no idea how to lighten up the atmosphere, and Neville was nervous, as if he was expecting Ron and Hermione to blow up at each other at any minute. Ron was oblivious as to how he made Hermione so angry.

Finally, when they arrived at the castle, Ron said to Harry, "Do you know why she's so angry with me? Or is she always like this?"

"Well, Ron, if you could for a second, think about how your words can hurt other people, then maybe you wouldn't think her behavior is that strange."

"But what did I do? I don't think I've talked to her in a year! I don't even remember what I said to her last time."

"Yes, and maybe now you should be aware of how your words nearly got her killed!"

"Wait, what?" Ron looked so confused and shocked at this point that Harry was now very sure that what he did last Halloween was speaking without thinking. Well, at least he wasn't a bully, like Harry thought he was last year – he was just, well, immature…However, after the shock wore off and Ron blurted out angrily in denial, "I never said anything to get anyone killed or even close to that! You know, I don't even know why I'm bothering with this! She's just some bossy know-it-all anyway," Harry forgot every other optimistic thought he had of Ron.

"Shut up," Harry growled. "You weren't the one who helped me go after the Sorcerer's Stone last year to protect it from Quirrell! Without her, I'd be dead! And she knowingly risked her life, too! She was loyal, brave, and smart. She's the best friend I could ask for. She proved herself to be more than a bossy know-it-all! Much more! You, on the other hand, so far have proven yourself to be insensitive, narrow-minded, and uncaring!" With that, he spun on his heels and marched off angrily.

…

Besides his argument with Ron, this year started out much more enjoyable for Harry, at least in part because people don't treat him like a plague to be avoided anymore. His popularity had been soaring ever since the Quirrell incident and the Quidditch Cup being awarded to Gryffindor. According to Hermione, her lot had improved, too. Since the Quirrell incident, people thought she was more adventurous and less of a goody-two-shoes than they thought. Harry and Hermione could honestly say that they've never had a better start to a year. Even though they were good friends, both were eager to make friends with other people.

But then, on the first day of classes, Harry didn't know which was worse – being ignored by his classmates or being treated on the basis of his fame. At lunch time, an overexcited Colin Creevey asked him to take a picture with him, causing a whole chain of actions to follow. Draco teased him about giving autographs, and because of that, Gilderoy Lockhart approached him to get his own fame up. Never before had he been so publicly humiliated. With that said, Harry hexed Lockhart secretly to get away from him, turning his hair into antlers. Colin had a great time taking pictures of that.

At Lockhart's first lesson, he released a bunch of Cornish pixies into the classroom. Had it not been for Hermione's quick thinking and Harry's particular gift at spell modification, there would have been chaos. As Harry left the classroom with Hermione, his robes in complete disarray, he commented grumpily, "That man is anything but brilliant. And I thought it was inappropriate to conjure a goat in Snape's classroom last year. This made that seem tiny!"

"But look at all the things he's done!" Hermione protested.

Harry snorted. "Forget his books. Until someone can give me an eyewitness, I refuse to believe any of it. If he can't handle pixies, I doubt he could've handled werewolves. From the spell he used in class, it's obvious that he doesn't know what the crud he's doing either."

…

Harry arrived at Snape's classroom at eight o'clock. "Good evening, Professor," he said politely.

Snape didn't look up. "I assume you've been reading up on potions materials over the summer," he said emotionlessly, ignoring Harry's greeting.

"Yes, Sir."

"We'll be working through a list of antidotes and cures. We'll see how far you can get, Potter. If you can't seem to do brew them properly, perhaps an incentive would be to test out the effectiveness of your antidotes on yourself," Snape threatened.

Harry didn't say anything in response. He knew it was an empty threat, as it always is. Snape seemed to enjoy threatening students, although Harry had no idea why. "What will we be starting on, Sir?"

"We'll test your knowledge in this area first, Potter," Snape drawled. "Tell me the simplest cure to ague."

"Whole ashwinder eggs, sir. I would have to swallow them whole," Harry answered promptly.

"And what happens if you eat Alihotsy leaves, which would cause you to have hysteria?"

"I would have to counter it with Glumbumble treacle, Sir."

"At least you're competent in this area." Snape stood up and went around to his potions cupboard. "Today, you'll be brewing a blood-replenishing potion. It's used many times by Healers, especially if you are injured and losing blood quickly and they need time to heal you. There are two parts to making this potion…"

However, a voice stopped Harry from listening to the rest of Snape's lecture. "_Come to me…let me rip you…let me tear you…"_ Harry shivered. It sounded strange…as if it was coming from the walls around him.

"_Harry, it's a snake. I can hear and understand the voice, too," _Sasha hissed to him from his sleeve._ "There must be a snake around here."_

"Potter! Are you paying attention?" Snape snapped angrily. He was holding a plant in his hand. "I am spending a lot of time on you, Potter! If my teachings cannot peak your interest enough and keep your attention, then you should leave!"

Harry had jumped and was now shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Sir. I was just distracted."

Snape glared. After a moment of intense silence between them, the Potions Master finally said coldly, "Since you seem too preoccupied to learn, Potter, come back when you can focus." It was a clear dismissal and when translated, it came out as – "Come back tomorrow, and you BETTER be focused by then."

Harry nodded. "Yes, Sir." He exited the classroom and headed towards Gryffindor Tower, entering the common room and plopping himself down onto a comfortable sofa. His mind was still on the snake's voice. Even though it must've been just an ordinary snake wanting an evening snack, was it just Harry or had the snake sounded bloodthirsty and sinister compared to a normal snake?

…

Oliver Wood had them all down in the locker rooms earlier than usual one Saturday morning, but Harry, being used to sleeping late and waking up early, was his cheerful morning self, excited to get back on a broom and play Quidditch. Apparently, Oliver had made a new training program with them all training longer, harder…and earlier.

"It's amazing how Harry could be so happy at this time of day – even if he is more of a Quidditch fanatic than Oliver is," Angelina grumbled, partly in annoyance, partly in admiration. "It's only seven in the morning on a Saturday." The rest of the team nodded, even Oliver.

Harry grinned. "It's a new day. How can I not be?" he said cheerfully as they all stepped into the pitch. However, his smile dropped slightly when he saw the Slytherins there as well. "Oliver, didn't you book the pitch for our practice?"

Oliver was livid. He stomped up to Flint and growled, "I booked this pitch! I booked it!"

"Yeah, but we have to train our new Seeker," Flint replied smugly.

"Who's your new Seeker?" Oliver asked. Curiosity seemed to be the only thing stopping him from throttling Flint.

"Me." The Slytherins parted to reveal the sneering face of Draco Malfoy, who turned to Harry. "Unlike you, Potter, my father can afford something much better than what you're used to sitting on." It was obvious Draco hadn't forgotten the embarrassment at Flourish and Blotts. He showed Harry his broomstick handle – the Nimbus 2001. All the Slytherin players had one. "Your Nimbus 2000 is firewood compared to these." His teammates laughed.

So Draco's father had to use money to get him a spot on the team. Harry was reminded of Dudley, but he pushed the thought from his mind, not wanting to dwell on the unhealthy memories. "Show me a Snitch and then we can talk," Harry replied coolly. "Amateur."

The reaction was immediate. Draco was about to pummel Harry when a loud, familiar voice sounded behind Harry, _"__Everte Statum!"_ An orange light hit Draco in the chest and he was thrown backwards away from Harry. Harry turned to Hermione, who had run out onto the pitch towards him. "Hermione, what are you doing here?"

Hermione reached him, panting slightly, and said, "I was just planning to do my homework in the stands until you finish practice so that we could go to the library together to work on our History of Magic paper. But then you and Malfoy seemed to be starting a fight, so I…I can't believe I attacked Malfoy…"

"You were defending me. Attacking another student in defense is okay, Hermione! It's nothing to freak out about…"

"You filthy little Mudblood! How dare you do magic on me?" Malfoy's snarling face was suddenly inches from Hermione's. "You're not even a real witch, are you – " Draco stopped.

Everyone stared. Players on both teams were shocked. Hermione gaped. Harry's wand tip was pressed against Draco's throat threateningly.

Hermione widened her eyes when she looked at Harry's face. Harry's jaw was stiff. His green eyes, usually so cheerful and kind, were cold and furious. She had never seen him pull his wand on someone before, besides in a life or death situation. Harry preferred words or intimidation because he wanted to avoid getting into trouble; no matter how mad he gets, he always had some control over what he does. What Draco had said had really struck a nerve.

"I suggest you back away, Malfoy," Harry hissed softly, his voice dangerous. "If you have any sense of self-preservation at all, you would not push your luck with someone who has their wand at your throat. Never say that word again."

Draco whimpered but backed away from Hermione slowly, Harry's wand still pressing against his throat.

Hermione turned to face Harry, who seemed to have a curse right on the tip of his tongue. "Harry, calm down. Don't lose your temper. He isn't worth it," she said to him comfortingly, attempting to reach under his anger and pull him back to see reason. "You'll get in trouble, and nothing good will come from it."

Harry was breathing heavily, but he slowly lowered his wand. With that, he marched off the pitch towards the Black Lake, planning to blow off steam.

Draco stared before turning to his teammates. Then he called after Harry tauntingly, "What, Potter, you don't have the guts? Saint Potter? You didn't harm me because you can't, can you? Bet you don't have it in you, do you? Or maybe you don't have any offensive spell in your arsenal?" Now that he had Harry's wand off his throat, he was much more confident. Besides, his teammates were older than Harry? What could Harry do?

Harry stopped, his shoulders trembling in anger and his fingers clenching and unclenching, before he took a deep breath and continued his way towards the Black Lake. Hermione ran after him.

Oliver snarled at Flint, "Your Seeker's pathetic, you know that? Do _you_ know that, Malfoy? Have your pitch. Harry can beat you any day, so you'll need all the practice you can to even make it enjoyable for him." With that, he led the team off the pitch, all of them glaring at the Slytherins with disgust.

…

Hermione turned to look at Harry, who was sitting next to her under the tree by the lake. "Harry?" He didn't respond. "You're not weak. You're just…better than Malfoy will ever be. You did the right thing, you know. You didn't attack out of anger or pride." Still receiving no response from Harry, she turned to look at him. "Harry, are you listening to me?" she asked worriedly.

Suddenly Harry stood up and said loudly, "Hermione, what am I supposed to do?"

She jumped in surprise. "What?"

"I don't know what I'm doing!" Harry cried in frustration. "I want to make a difference, but standing up for my beliefs like I did – it changed nothing!" He was breathing heavily. "Nicolas told me that I need to stand up for my beliefs or else I'll regret it. I know that's true, but look, Hermione! It did nothing to change anything! People like Malfoy still think muggleborns like you are beneath them, even though you're not! Even if I stand up to them and argue otherwise…" Harry swallowed. Then he finished quietly, "…it wouldn't make a difference."

Hermione was silent for a while before she said, "Yes, it does, Harry. You have no idea how good it feels for me when…when you stand up for me like that. Muggleborns are usually looked down upon in the wizarding world, and eventually, we would feel ashamed of our origins. But, with people like you standing up for us like that, you give us strength. We're not so alone or…powerless. We have a champion." Then she smiled and hugged him. "Harry, Nicolas told you that if you know your end result, you can find your solution. You know your end result. I'm sure you can find a solution – just like you did with the Trace. Nothing comes easy, Harry, but you have talent. A lot of it. And I know that you'll find a way to use your talents to accomplish your goals."

**Please Review!**


	13. Persecution of Muggleborns

**Persecution of Muggleborns**

**Anyway, so a reviewer told me that Harry's refusal to kill even the vilest of murderers won't win him a war. If I must remember correctly, a cowardly murderer had a life debt owed to Harry, which saved Harry his life. It was Harry's mercy that saved him later on with Pettigrew. One can argue that it was Harry's mercy that allowed Pettigrew to help Voldemort return to life in the Goblet of Fire in the first place. However, even if Harry did kill Pettigrew, I think we can all agree that Voldemort had enough loyal followers that he could return to life without Pettigrew - Barty Crouch for example.**

**Also, I would just like to point out that everything that Harry does is influenced by his experiences, so if he seemed too mature, my readers have gotten their answer. One of the most noticeable characteristics in Harry in my fic is that he is much wiser than he was in the canon, in addition to his intelligence and talent. This wisdom is what will set the entire course of this fic. As Hermione and Dumbledore had said, it wasn't what one **_**can**_** do that matters in showing who we are, it was what one **_**does**_**. We all know Harry could've cursed Draco to oblivion; however, he didn't. He could've, at this point in time, gone back to kill the Dursleys. But he never even considered it. **

**So, my fic isn't focused on revenge or anything of the sort. Instead, it's more focused on mercy and patience, understanding and wisdom, sympathy and courage, and most of all, Harry's role as a good protector, an understanding teacher, a clever strategist, and a brave warrior. **

Harry was called into Dumbledore's office several days before Halloween and was surprised to see the Headmaster looking…sad. Dumbledore was normally so whimsical. However, now, he was completely serious. "Sir, is there something wrong?" he asked.

Dumbledore heaved a sigh and said softly, "Harry, the Flamels' supply of Elixir has run out, and they are ready to die. They expect that they will be dying sometime tonight. They requested that you and I should be at their bedsides at their deaths. They have taken a great liking for you, Harry, and they wish to give you some final words."

Harry stared in shock. He had known that the Flamels were going to die soon, but it had always been as if his heart was denying the fact…Over the summer, he had grown to love the elderly couple – as much as it was possible for a student to love his mentors. Nicolas and Perenelle taught him so much – not just academics but about life as well. They taught him and advised him, cared for him...

"Harry?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Will you come?"

Harry nodded vigorously. "Of course, Sir."

Dumbledore motioned him towards the fireplace. "I assume you know how to travel by Floo?"

Harry nodded.

"It would be Flamel Cottage," Dumbledore stated simply as he handed Harry a pot full of Floo powder.

Harry stepped into the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and cried, "Flamel Cottage!" He threw the powder onto the hearth. Green fire enveloped him and he disappeared. The next thing he knew, he had appeared in the familiar living room of the Flamels. He stepped out of the fireplace and Dumbledore appeared after him.

"They will be in the bedroom, Harry." Dumbledore led him into the master bedroom.

For Harry, it was quite awkward to come into the bedroom of the Flamels. He felt like he was invading their privacy. He saw Perenelle and Nicolas on separate beds. At first, he thought it was a little strange for them not to be in one bed together, but then he realized the arrangement of the beds was a V-shape. That way, the beds were close enough together at one end so that the couple could hold hands when they die. However, it would also allow room for one visitor at a time to sit between them, allowing them both to talk to the person. It would've been awkward if they were on the same bed because then the visitor would be standing on one side of the bed and either Perenelle or Nicolas would have to talk over the other's shoulder.

Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Do you wish to speak to them first?"

"You can do it first, Sir," Harry said quietly. "I'll just wait outside until you're done." With that, he left the room and closed the door behind him. He sat down on an armchair in the living room and wondered what the Flamels wanted to tell him as their final words to him. Feeling tired, Harry closed his eyes, and he drifted off to an uneasy sleep. It was late at night already – maybe eleven thirty.

"Harry, they would like to see you."

Harry opened his eyes and looked up to see Dumbledore having finished with his last conversation with the Flamels. As he stood up to enter the bedroom, Dumbledore laid a hand on his shoulder. No words were spoken and, eventually, Dumbledore dropped his hand. Harry entered the bedroom and stood between the Flamels' beds. Perenelle and Nicolas both looked at him and then they smiled.

"Don't look so serious, Harry," Nicolas said. "After all, death is just another adventure I look forward to."

"This isn't the last time you'll see us, Harry," Perenelle said gently.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his voice weak.

"Well, for one thing, we'll never really be gone," she replied. "Our love ones never truly leave us." Even near death, her eyes gleamed. "Just like your parents, Harry - as long as you live, they are living in you. Just as their blood and love run through your veins, our teachings will live through your actions."

Then Nicolas spoke, his voice serious, "Harry, as your mentor, I must warn you. You want to do what's right, and that is very noble of you. However, it is not in human nature to act in value of morality over self-preservation. Not only will you face external opposition to your cause, but you will also be fighting your own nature as well. Sometimes, you will feel like giving up. But…live your life out with no regrets, my boy. It will be hard…but in the end, it will be worth it. I promise you."

"Harry, when you want to promote a cause, never let the vision of your goal cloud out your morality." Perenelle paused. "Sometimes you will want to lash out in anger. However, that will accomplish nothing. Your wand's primary purpose is to protect, to defend, to promote good…not cause harm. Your actions should not be based on anger. It should be based on your clear judgment. Allow your heart to create your goals, but allow your head to make the decisions on how to act."

Harry nodded. He had nearly attacked Draco out of anger, but really…what would that accomplish – other than a full-blown fight and a lot of pain? Afterwards, Draco might have enough sense to not call Hermione a 'Mudblood' to her face, but he would continue to see her as inferior to him. Nothing had changed. There must be another better way…

"Remember, my boy," Nicolas said softly, "When you know the end result, you can find a solution. Many times, there is more than one solution. However, some solutions are better than others."

There was a long silence. Then Perenelle and Nicolas held hands, their hands in the space between their beds. They stayed like that for a long time before Nicolas and Perenelle turned to Harry. "Never lose heart, Harry…in the face of suffering," Perenelle whispered. Her voice was very weak at this point. Nicolas smiled. "Thank you for coming…you were a source of pride and happiness for us in the weeks that you were here…" After looking into Harry's eyes for several seconds, they looked towards the ceiling. After a few long minutes, they both breathed their last and their eyes closed.

Something tore within Harry. Was it his heart? Or was it his entire body? He stood there and stared in shock. They were gone – just like that. He didn't cry. He felt numb, but at the same time, he was hurting. He was only vaguely aware when Dumbledore led him out of the room. He was only vaguely aware that it was about one or two in the morning. It was like a dream to him. Maybe it was. He was feeling really tired. When he was back in his bed, he blinked a few times before closing his eyes and falling into a deep sleep.

The next day, when Harry woke up, the first thought that came into his head was…the finality of the Flamels' deaths. They weren't coming back. They never will. His heart ached. They really were gone.

…

For the next few days leading up to Halloween, Harry spent most of the time away from rowdy areas, staying quiet for the most part and speaking little. Hermione rarely left his side, and he was grateful for her company, which was never imposing. She didn't talk as much as she usually does; instead, she just worked and sat by him. On Halloween, Hermione convinced Harry to come to the feast after much persuasion since he wasn't in the mood to celebrate anything.

"Harry, isn't this great?" Hermione asked, gesturing to the Halloween decorations.

Harry smiled, although it looked a bit forced. "Yeah, it is." He knew she was trying to get his mind off the Flamels' deaths but it was hard. They taught him so much, and the circumstances of their deaths even made it harder to take his mind off them. Their deaths were completely different from Quirrell's. He shook his head and pushed thoughts of their deaths out of the way before saying, "The decorations are nice, but the food is better. Chocolate?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she seemed happier that he was at least trying to focus on the feast. "Chocolate for dinner, Harry? I think not!" Her comment eased the two into an atmosphere of easy banter.

"But it's Halloween!" Harry protested. "Lemon drops? Chocolate frogs? Licorice wands? Halloween is not a time for healthy eating!" That made both of them laugh. However, Harry filled his plate with potatoes, peas, and chicken and began to eat. "I heard Dumbledore's getting dancing skeletons for entertainment," he said.

"He did! Look!"

Harry looked up from his food towards the front of the Great Hall and let out a laugh when several skeletons began to tap dance. Halloween feasts always put people into good moods. After they finished eating, the students began to rise up one by one and leave the hall in groups. Harry and Hermione followed the Gryffindors into the corridors. There was a crowd gathering at the end of the corridor, and Harry, short for his age, craned his neck to see what the hold-up was. He squeezed between the students toward the front of the crowds and gaped. On the wall were large words – "THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE." Harry turned cold. He knew what the Chamber of Secrets was. He also understood what the message meant.

"Enemies of the heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

Harry spun around. Draco Malfoy had pushed his way towards the front of the crowds and was now grinning at the sight of Mrs. Norris hanging stiffly by her tail on the torch bracket. Harry wanted to throttle him, but in the light of the situation, beating up Malfoy would have to be put on the back burner. Harry quickly noted the water on the floor and was about to inspect Mrs. Norris when Filch came shouldering his way through the crowds.

"What's going on here? What's going on?" When his eyes landed on Mrs. Norris, he stepped back in shock, clutching his face. "Mrs…Mrs. Norris…What happened to my cat? What happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked. His eyes fluttered back and forth between all the students. "You all…one of you killed her…" he spluttered.

Harry stepped forward towards Filch's cat. Everybody turned towards him.

Filch's accusing gaze snapped towards him. "You…finally…you're stepping forward to admit your crime?" he spat venomously.

Harry shook his head. "No, Sir, I'm just checking something…" He continued forward towards Mrs. Norris's body. There was something strange about it.

"What are you doing?" Filch snarled, grabbing Harry by the arms and slamming him so hard against the wall that Harry bit back a yelp. "You killed her. Now you want to defile her corpse…"

"I didn't do it. I just want to check if she's really dead," Harry said defensively, although not unkindly. He could almost imagine how Filch must be feeling now, especially since Mrs. Norris seemed to be the closest he had to a friend.

"Of course she's dead! Look at her!"

"Mr. Filch, let Harry go! He might be onto something!" Hermione said loudly. "If she was alive, would you really want to make the mistake to think that she's dead?" she said reasonably, lowering her voice a bit to sound more polite.

Filch glared at Harry before letting go of him, although the expression on his face showed that he wanted otherwise.

Harry reached out to Mrs. Norris and attempted to move one of her paws. The entire corridor was silent as everyone watched him work. No matter how hard he tried, the paw wouldn't move. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Then he leaned forward, looking into her face.

"Well?" Filch growled. "Is she dead?"

Harry took a deep breath. "No, she isn't." There were murmurs in the crowd before Harry explained, "Before I checked her out, I thought her body was a bit strange for a corpse. It was too awkwardly positioned. See? Her paws are sticking out from her body; her body is rigid. And her eyes are also wide-opened in shock. A dead cat would be limper and it'll most likely have its eyes closed. So what must have happened here was that she was walking down the corridor and was petrified while still standing. That's why her paws are sticking out like that."

"You sure know a lot about this and gave it a lot of thought, Potter!" Malfoy commented nastily. "How did we know you didn't do it yourself?"

"I was at the feast," Harry replied coolly.

Filch, who seemed to want to kill Harry a while ago, now seemed to be looking to him desperately as if he was his last hope. "W-well, if she is petrified, you can un-petrify her, can't you?" he spluttered.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not an expert in petrification. I just recognized the signs because they're easy to identify if you know what you're looking for. I think there's a potion that cures petrification, but you'll have to ask Professor Dumbledore or Professor Snape because I don't know how to brew it."

"You are quite right, Harry, about Mrs. Norris being petrified."

Harry turned around. Dumbledore was standing in front of the crowd, who had parted to allow him and several teachers through.

"That potion would be called the Mandrake Restorative Draught," Snape supplied, appearing behind Dumbledore and not looking a bit surprised that Harry knew what petrification is and how to cure it..

Dumbledore nodded. "However, we will need the school's mandrakes to mature first before they can be used to make the potion." His eyes were focused on the message on the wall. "Please, everyone, return to your dormitories."

As they walked back to their dormitories, many people gave Harry strange looks, half-suspicious, half-admiring. Hermione asked him, "How do you know about petrification?"

"I study and know a bit about the Dark Arts," Harry replied. "I just don't practice it," he said hastily when Hermione gave him a look of disapproval. "Hermione, it's not what you _can_ do that matters. It's what you actually _do_." As they sat down in their common room, he asked her, "You do know what the Chamber of Secrets is, right?"

"I've heard of it, I think, in _Hogwarts, A History_. They say Slytherin built it in this castle before he left in order to house a monster that will be unleashed by his true heir and rid the school of muggleborns. That was what the message meant by 'Enemies of the heir, beware,' right?"

Harry nodded.

"Harry, you don't think…there really is a Chamber of Secrets, do you?"

Harry closed his eyes and let out a breath. "Petrification is not like a simple body-bind curse. It is very powerful Dark magic. The petrification of Mrs. Norris and the message on the wall couldn't have been just a nasty prank." Seeing the look on her face, Harry nodded in affirmative. "The message could be saying the truth about the Chamber of Secrets. Evil is at work."

…

Several days after the petrification of Mrs. Norris, Colin Creevey was also petrified. Harry had had to regrow bones in his entire arm because of Lockhart's incompetency, learned that Dobby had been trying to save his life by trying to (almost) kill him, and discovered that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened before. The school was in an uproar. People were trading amulets and all sorts of supposedly defensive devices. First years moved together in packs, hoping to stay safer in numbers.

Harry, however, was completely oblivious to all the commotion, seemingly having more important things on his mind that buying supposed anti-Dark Arts talismans. Hermione often found him sitting in the library, surrounded by thick tomes that, for once in a long while, were on something completely different from Transfiguration and Potions – instead, it was on magical creatures.

"Harry, don't you think you should concentrate a bit on schoolwork?" Hermione asked one day. "I mean, you haven't started your Transfiguration essay yet, and it's due tomorrow."

Harry looked up from a thick book. "Right now, Hermione, I'm more worried about the muggleborns in this school than my grades," he said simply. He leaned back on his chair and looked out the window, his eyes troubled. Many bad emotions were turbulent within him. He was appalled that the persecution, hatred, and prejudice towards muggleborns ran so deep that someone would actually open the Chamber of Secrets. Such would forever prevent muggleborns from entering the school and nurturing their natural talents to their full potential. It would forever prevent them from discovering the beauties of magic…

"Hermione, I'm afraid," Harry confessed.

"You're a half-blood. You don't have anything to worry about…"

"Not for myself." His eyes bore into hers, conveying his exact meaning.

Hermione lowered her eyes to the table. "Why are you so worried?" she asked quietly. "No one's been killed."

"Not yet." Harry flipped a few more pages in his book, his eyes scanning over the words. Suddenly his eyes widened, and his face twisted in horror. Fear gripped his heart, so much that his tight hold on the tome was making his hands turn white.

"Harry, are you okay?"

"Hermione, do you have a mirror on you?"

"Yeah, it's in my bag," she said, blushing slightly. She knew not many people would think of her as the girly type.

"Promise me you'll keep it on you, and use it to see around corners and stuff. And be careful."

"Okay," she said uncertainly, slightly confused.

"I think I've found out what the monster in the Chamber of Secrets is," Harry said softly, avoiding looking at her. "Slytherin is known for his affiliation with the snake. He was well-known as a Parselmouth and many called him 'serpent-tongue.' His descendents would inherit this trait from him I would think. It would make sense that the monster in the Chamber is a snake then. That would explain why the monster can only be controlled by the heir of Slytherin – a Parselmouth." Even as he said this, Harry wondered about himself – who he truly was. He had never thought much about his ability to speak Parseltongue. Could there be…more than one heir of Slytherin?

"Salazar Slytherin lived centuries ago. Whatever snake he placed in the Chamber must be able to survive that long. Ashwinders and runespoors are out of the question. However, the Basilisk would be a very fitting choice as the King of Serpents. It would explain a lot of things that are happening around Hogwarts, too. Roosters, the crowing of which are fatal to the creature, are being killed around the school. Spiders are running away." Harry gestured to a trail of spiders crawling out the window of the library. "The direct gaze of a Basilisk is instant death. The only reason neither Mrs. Norris nor Colin is dead is because they didn't look at the Basilisk directly. That's why I want you to hold onto the mirror."

"Harry, you should warn the teachers! Such a monster going around the school…people could get killed. They should close the school!"

Harry nodded and immediately stood up and left, his book left open on a page that described the characteristics of a basilisk. When Harry walked towards the teachers' lounge, he heard something that stopped him from bursting inside. "This is outrageous!"

McGonagall was raging if her tone was anything to go by. "We should be closing the school until this monster is found. However, the Board of Governors is being quite thickheaded at the moment. They refused to close the school, saying that since this is a magical school, attacks that can be easily cured with a potion happen frequently. They should be no reason for closing the school, they said! It's as if they're ignoring all the attacks. Two more people have been petrified last night, and they decided to force Albus to resign!"

Harry's eyes widened. Dumbledore resigning? The Board refused to close the school? Are they waiting for someone to get killed?

"Well, I say! Minerva, do you think Lucius is behind all this?" Flitwick's squeaky voice rang throughout the room.

"No doubt he is, Filius. He has the entire board around his finger. But, unfortunately, we have no proof of anything, and we cannot send the students home. Don't misunderstand me – I don't want the school to close any more than any of you, but Hogwarts is no longer safe…"

Harry did not stay to listen to the rest of the words. He ran down the corridors and outside towards the Black Lake. Frustration and anger caused him to punch a nearby tree, ignoring the shocks of pain that ran up his arm. A Basilisk was running around the school…the Board refused to close the school unless someone died first…even if he told them what he knew, he had no solid proof. Lucius would no doubt find a way to keep the school from closing so that the attacks would ensue. This was muggleborn persecution of the largest scale.

What was he supposed to do? He couldn't go up to the governors and threaten them or anything. They were too afraid of the Malfoys, who had nearly complete monopoly of the Ministry. How corrupted was it?

Harry walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, trying to calm his agitation. The sound of a twig breaking caught his attention and he spun around, whipping out his wand. However, what he saw made him lowered it immediately. It was a unicorn.

It was standing there, calmly flicking its snow white tail back and forth. However, the most peculiar thing about it was that it wasn't galloping away when it saw Harry. Its eyes were steadily focused on him, and it seemed to be content just staying where it was. It took Harry a moment before he realized that perhaps this was the unicorn whose life he and Hermione saved the previous year. That was the only plausible reason because unicorns were very shy and wouldn't approach humans unless for a very good reason.

Suddenly from behind the unicorn came forth two young foals. They were about several months old. They trotted towards him, and the adult unicorn, who no doubt must be their mother, watched them carefully. However, she didn't stop them. One of them nudged him gently, although Harry, who was extremely light for his age, stumbled over slightly. Despite his worry, Harry couldn't help but smile. Young unicorns were much more trusting of human boys, and people in general, than their adult counterparts.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple that he had been saving for a late afternoon snack. With a quick "_Diffindo_!" Harry split the apple in half and gave each half to a young unicorn. As they chewed on the fruit, Harry reminisced to himself, "Where would you two have been without your mother?" Some strange feeling was rising up within him. However, it was familiar – his urge to protect. He wanted to protect the foals and their mother, who were so trusting of him. "I wonder sometimes," he said thoughtfully, "about my place in this world. Is it my place to aim to protect people's rights…or their lives even though I know that I would most likely fail? Or am I just supposed to go through school like any other wizard?" After all, he could be the heir of Slytherin, or an heir if there was more than one. The thought of killing muggleborns sickened him.

Harry absentmindedly ran his hand through one of the foals' mane. "Nicolas believed in me, and so did Perenelle. Hermione believes in me. Even Dumbledore…But how do they know that I'm qualified? How am I supposed to come up with solutions to things? I mean…I'm just a boy."

**I sincerely apologize for taking so long on this chapter. Like I said before, my schedule's really hectic right now. Don't worry, though, I have every mind to finish this story.**

**However, please continue to review.  
><strong>


	14. The Lonely Protector

**The Lonely Protector**

**The crowing of a rooster would be fatal to a basilisk, and perhaps McGonagall (or even Harry, the Transfiguration master himself) could transfigure something into a rooster if all the roosters are being killed. However, remember that it doesn't matter if the Basilisk can't hear the crowing in the first place. The Basilisk is being controlled, so if the person knows there are roosters on the grounds, they wouldn't send the Basilisk out until the roosters are killed first. The only reason the roosters were killed was so that the Basilisk can do things uninterrupted – they weren't killed so that the Basilisk can stay alive – the Basilisk can't hear anything down in the Chamber or else it would've died centuries ago with all the roosters on the grounds. **

**As for Harry drowning in self-pity at the moment, I personally think he's entitled to some in light of the situation. Can you imagine him at that point in time? Muggleborn rights was his dream, and now, he realized the extent that he had to fight. Just in his second year, he discovered first-hand – a Basilisk and a corrupted Board of Governors. It's very different when he was just reading about muggle persecution from a book.**

**Anyway, I would like to thank people's patience with this story. I know there are people who are dying to get to the romance parts of this story. Me, too, actually, but I have to play this story out nicely. The timing, the plot… Anyway, there will be a lot of it to come. That is a promise. Um, as a little foreshadowing, so that my readers don't read too far into the story and be disappointed later on with the plot, feeling like their time has been wasted because they haven't exactly gotten what they wanted…**

**Harry will be facing many types of societal issues that somewhat corresponds to today's issues, sometimes even the ones that society very rarely thinks about. They range from prejudice to corrupt politicians to poverty to even the more delicate issues to touch on – human slavery and self-harm, for example. As the plot move on, it will get darker…**

**Also, for Malfoy-haters out there, continue to read at your own risk…**

"Hermione, I don't want to learn how to duel from Lockhart!" Harry protested as Hermione dragged him towards the Dueling Club.

"You need the experience!" she said firmly. "After all, with a Basilisk going around the school, everyone should learn how to at least defend themselves, even if they have to close their eyes while doing so."

"And you think Lockhart can duel?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Well, if you're so disinclined towards Professor Lockhart," Hermione said slyly, "I'll have you know that Professor Snape is co-teacher."

Harry immediately stopped his struggling. "Professor Snape?" Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad. After all, Harry had a feeling that Snape was a very formidable, competent wizard…unlike Lockhart.

"Gather 'round, gather 'round! Can everyone see me? Can everyone hear me?" Lockhart's voice carried through the room.

"I wish I can't," Harry muttered. If he was learning how to defend himself from a Basilisk by listening to this guy…well, he would've had more luck with trying to punch the snake in the eye. Besides he was quite stressed right now, and listening to Lockhart would just increase his stress level. On the same day he heard Dumbledore resigned, he heard the school gamekeeper Hagrid was sent to Azkaban. Apparently, he was assumed to be opening the Chamber of Secrets because he was expelled for that same crime many years ago. However, Harry was doubtful. The pieces didn't match up.

When he was in the hospital wing, listening to the conversation between Dumbledore and McGonagall, Harry could tell that Dumbledore knew who opened the Chamber of Secrets. If Hagrid did open the Chamber, wouldn't Dumbledore have stopped him by now? Stress was building up inside Harry because the thought of an innocent man inside the inhumane wizard prison gave him nightmares and reminded him that his innocent godfather was also still in jail. Harry never felt worse. Two people in prison for a crime they didn't commit.

A loud noise shook him out of his thoughts. Snape had just blasted Lockhart backwards with a Disarming spell. With no ounce of shame reflected in his body language, Lockhart suggested they paired students up to duel.

"I suggest Malfoy and…" Snape began.

"Potter!" Lockhart interrupted cheerfully, causing Snape's jaw to tighten.

Hermione pushed Harry onto the floor, and the duel began. They followed the formal procedure before turning their wands on each other.

"On a count of three, cast your spells to disarm only! 3…2...!"

"_Tarantallegra_!" Malfoy yelled.

On reflex, Harry threw up the shield charm nonverbally. After so much practice at home (his parents would never have approved him going to Knockturn Alley without superb mastery of the shield charm), the shield charm was second nature to Harry. Everyone stared, including Malfoy, until he got over his shock and cried, "_Serpensortia!"_ A thick cobra shot out of his wand, hissing menacingly. It was nothing like Sasha.

Harry lowered his wand. Shield charms don't work against solid objects like a snake. However, there was a Transfiguration spell that could Vanish it… "_Vipera…"_

"Allow me to get rid of it for you, Harry!" Lockhart said, striding forward before Harry could finish the spell. "_Alarte Ascendare!"_

The hissing snake flew into the air before landing right in front of a Hufflepuff boy. Angry, it was about to strike when Harry yelled out without thinking, "_Stop!"_ The snake froze before turning towards him, its tongue flicking in and out in curiosity. Letting out a sigh in relief, Harry flicked his wand and Vanished the snake.

"What the hell, Potter?"

Harry's relief disappeared. Of course…with Slytherin's monster running around…how idiotic can he be? Murmurs ran throughout the student body. Those whom he knew were muggleborns shied from the dueling platform.

Draco was sneering. "So, Potter the Mudblood-lover is actually a pretender." His cold eyes were shining with malice.

As the whispers increased, Harry closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. He was isolated once more. Suddenly, a hand was on his shoulder. Harry looked up into Snape's beetle black eyes.

"Follow me, Potter," Snape said without emotion and pulled the distressed boy off the platform towards the direction of his office.

Harry noticed Hermione pulling away from the crowds and following them, uncomfortable around Snape's cold demeanor and yet determined to stay by Harry's side.

"Sit," Snape said, motioning towards a chair in front of his desk.

Harry obeyed. It was cold in Snape's office, but he was comfortable at the moment, shielded from the fearful gazes of his classmates. Although their paranoia was understandable, it still hurt. He had never hurt any of them.

"Drink," Snape ordered, handing him a cup of some potion.

Harry drained the cup, not even bothering to try and recognize the potion, and felt his body and mind relax. "Thank you, Sir."

Snape nodded curtly. "You may stay here until you are ready to face your classmates," he muttered coldly, standing up and about to leave. His cheeks were slightly darker as if he was embarrassed to be seen being nice to a student outside of Slytherin.

"Wait, Sir," Harry began. "You don't think I am the heir of Slytherin, do you?"

Snape frowned. There was a silence before he replied, "Whether you are a descendent of his, I do not know. However, you are definitely not his heir." With that, he swept away past Hermione without a second look back.

"Harry!" she said, the minute Snape left. "Why didn't you tell me?" Seeing his look, Hermione asked exasperatedly, "You didn't think I'd think you are Slytherin's heir, did you?"

"Hermione, I'm not even sure myself if I am," Harry replied, feeling guilty. "I mean, I can speak Parseltongue – his most famous ability. Maybe I have a dual spirit or something, and the other side of me is like possessing my body or something and terrorizing the muggleborns in the school without me knowing!"

"But you heard Snape. You can be a descendent, but you're not his heir!"

"And how would he know?" Harry persisted.

"You can be really thick sometimes, you know that?" she said, her voice firm. "Even if your body was possessed, don't you think you would've noticed something is going on by now? Like maybe your hands covered in blood from killing roosters?"

Harry was quiet.

She grabbed his hand. "Harry, believe me."

"I can hear the Basilisk, you know," he replied quietly. "I can hear it wandering the school, as if through the walls. That was why I didn't concentrate on one of Snape's potions lesson earlier on in the school year. I was distracted because of that thing."

"You heard it wandering the school?" she asked, horrified. "But why didn't anyone notice it?"

"I don't know," Harry said, uncertainly.

"You say you can hear it as if it was going through the walls?" she said, calming herself down into her thinking mode. Her brows were knitted together in concentration.

Harry nodded. "Wait, where are you going?" he asked, panicking slightly when she turned to leave. Didn't she know it was dangerous to wander the school alone at this time?

"Don't worry. I'll be back in a bit. I have to go to the bathroom. Rest a bit, Harry. You need it after what happened," Hermione assured him. "Besides, I have the mirror. The worst that could happen is that I'm petrified." Seeing him about to protest, she hugged him. "I'll be fine. Stop worrying so much!" With that, she left.

Every second that passed, Harry became more concerned. Why was she taking so long? Going to the bathroom shouldn't be taking her fifteen minutes. Suddenly, McGonagall's voice rang through the school, "All students must return to their common rooms immediately! I repeat, all students must return to their common rooms immediately!"

Dread filled Harry. Where was Hermione? He ran out of Snape's office towards the Gryffindor common rooms. Ignoring the suspicious looks, he searched for his friend. When he didn't see her, he never felt more panicked in his life. Pacing back and forth, he tried to let out his agitation. He only stopped when McGonagall came and told them all that from then on, all students must be taken to class by a teacher. When he asked her where Hermione was, she only motioned for him to come to the hospital wing. There, Harry was horrified. Three more students, including Hermione, had been petrified. With Dumbledore gone, apparently the attacks increased. It was amazing that no one died yet.

"She was found in the girl's bathroom on the second floor," McGonagall said, sniffing slightly. "She was holding a small hand-held mirror. Perhaps you know what she was doing in a bathroom that was out of order?"

Harry shook his head. He touched her hand gently. It was stiff and cold, and her eyes were wide open in shock. Despite the situation, however, McGonagall's question did strike him as odd. What was she doing in a bathroom all the way up on the second floor? There was one in the dungeons nearer to Snape's office.

After McGonagall escorted him back to the dormitories that night, Harry took his invisibility cloak and snuck through the portrait hole. He went down to the second floor, only opening his eyes when he needed to see where he was going – just in case the Basilisk wanders around at this time. He went into the girl's bathroom and looked around. Nothing seemed out of place.

"Who's there?"

Harry turned around, slipping his cloak off his head. A ghost was floating towards him. "Oh, I'm Harry Potter," Harry said awkwardly, trying to be polite. "And you are?"

"I'm Moaning Myrtle. Of course, you wouldn't care really," she sniveled.

"Well, if I didn't, I wouldn't be asking," Harry replied. "Anyway, is this your bathroom?"

"Well, yes…"

"Did you happen to have any visitors today?" he asked immediately, interrupting her.

Myrtle sniffed, miffed. "Well, there was a girl coming in here a few hours ago. She was oddly interested in studying the toilets and sinks over there. So much that she didn't even utter a greeting."

"Oh, well, thank you, Myrtle," Harry said, backing away. "I have some work to do, so I'll talk to you later, 'kay?"

She sniffled. "Fine. I know when someone doesn't want me around." With that, she floated away.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes and pulled his cloak over his head again. Then he approached the sinks, keeping his ears open for the sounds of slithering or Parseltongue. As he studied the sinks, he noticed that one of them had a snake winding around its faucet. "I can't believe it," he whispered. "Hermione found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets." He assumed all he had to do was speak Parseltongue to open the entrance like a password. _And all she needed to know was that I was hearing the Basilisk through the walls – Hogwarts's pipe system…how could I not realize that? No wonder no one has found the Chamber for centuries despite the searches – it's because the entrance to the Chamber was in a bathroom that was out of order and you need to be able to speak Parseltongue in order to get in…_he thought.

He ran towards the staff room, certain that the teachers would be there at this time, trying to decide what to do to minimize the attacks. He didn't bother to knock. He burst inside and said loudly, "Professors, the Chamber of Secrets…I found the entrance to it…"

However, all of them were stone-faced. Finally, McGonagall said, "Potter, it is the end of Hogwarts."

"What? No, you don't understand, Professor. I've found the entrance…"

"We heard!" Snape snapped. "Now, listen to your elders for once! Especially when you're out at this time of night with a monster on the loose! Did we not tell you to not wander the halls without a teacher?"

Harry fell silent.

McGonagall continued on as if she hadn't been interrupted. "The school will be closing, and all students will be sent home. A student has been taken down into the Chamber; the Board of Governors consented."

Harry felt his blood ran cold. Someone was taken down into the Chamber. "But, Professor, I know where the Chamber is! We should go down and get her," he said weakly. The moment the words came out of his mouth, he realized how foolish they sounded. Even the teachers can't face a Basilisk. One look at it, and they would all die. However, this was another human life they're talking about.

"Potter, we all wish to save her life, but chances are, she's dead," Snape said. His hands were white, having been clenched so tightly during the announcement. "Not only that, but we do not know what is down in the Chamber, even if we know where it is."

"It's a Basilisk, Sir!" Harry said promptly, desperately.

"How did-?"

"It's a long story, but please…!" Harry pleaded.

All the teachers were white. Then finally Snape asked quietly, "Potter, do you honestly think all of us, even together, could defeat a Basilisk? Such creatures have very spell-repellent skin. Their eyes give instant death and even indirect gaze can petrify. Their venom kills within seconds. They are also very physically powerful. It would be similar to fighting a mountain lion with your hands tied behind your back. You can't look at the Basilisk. You can't hit it."

"But maybe you could transfigure something into a rooster…?"

"And then what?" Snape snapped. "Roosters are not immune to the gaze of the Basilisk, Potter! It would die before it lets out a sound if we go all the way down into the Chamber! And have you given any thought to the Heir of Slytherin himself? Roosters wouldn't be a problem for him!"

McGonagall added sorrowfully, "Potter, there are some things to be brave in, but you must distinguish between foolish recklessness and such bravery. Consider the possibility of us surviving if we all go down there. It is better to minimize deaths rather than going on a quest that would almost certainly mean our deaths. Think it through carefully. I will take you back to your common room."

Harry knew there was no arguing. When McGonagall was about to leave him in the common room, Harry asked, "Professor, who was taken down into the Chamber?"

"Ginny. Ginny Weasley," she replied softly before going through the portrait hole.

Harry paced the common room. He didn't feel right, leaving Ginny down there in the Chamber. He just didn't. And yet, never has his fear been so great. He knew the chance of him saving Ginny or defeating the Basilisk was close to zero. A millennium-old Basilisk must be huge…and very dangerous.

_Dudley grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and threw him into the wall, laughing as his glasses broke. "Hey, Piers, grab him, will you?" he said._

_Harry felt himself lifted up by his arms. He was turned around to face Dudley's fists. He forced his head up to see some of his classmates watching from afar. Although they had disapproving looks on their faces, fear was also evident. They wouldn't stand up for him for fear of being bullied themselves. No matter how much he wished for their help, they won't give it…_

_Fear shone in his eyes as Vernon looked as if he was about to kill him. Couldn't someone help him? ANYONE! He was rammed against the wall…_

Harry shut his eyes tight, trying to push away the memories. His mind had a way of making connections. Right now, he could almost feel how Ginny might be feeling, if she was still alive. He knew how it felt to hope for help desperately – and never receive it. With that, Harry knew he couldn't leave her down there without being certain that she was dead. He steeled himself and decided to go down to the Chamber himself under the invisibility cloak. She could be killed in any minute. He didn't have much time.

As he walked into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, he never felt more alone. When he went after the Sorcerer's Stone, he had Hermione by his side. Now, he was alone in his mission. As he looked at the entrance to the Chamber, he felt himself shaking with so much fear that he felt his legs were about to give into his weight. This was only short of outright suicide. Maybe he should just give up his foolish heroic thoughts. But if this terror was allowed to happen, not only would Ginny certainly die, how could he possibly expect muggleborns to ever be treated better? …_it is not in human nature to act in value of morality over self-preservation. Not only will you face external opposition to your cause, but you will also be fighting your own nature as well. Sometimes, you will feel like giving up. But…live your life out with no regrets, my boy. It will be hard…but in the end, it will be worth it. I promise you._

Nicolas's words seemed so foreign to him now. His words had much impact on him. Harry wanted to fight for muggleborns. He couldn't just give up now. He couldn't let them be bullied about in such a way. And…Ginny, she was such a sweet girl, even if she did have a fan girl's crush on him. She stood up for him against Malfoy at Flourish and Blotts, putting herself in verbal harm's way. Such an action never fails to earn his respect. Deciding to continue on before he could reconsider his rash decision, he hissed, "_Open!"_

The faucet burst into light and began to twirl around. The sink sank into the ground out of sight, revealing a large pipe – big enough for a full-grown man to go down easily. Harry took a deep breath. He had to think positively, or else, he'll most definitely die. He had to think he was going to survive this. Without another consideration, he jumped into the entrance and went on a roller coaster's ride through dozens of pipes. After he dropped onto a pile of bones, he grimaced and picked himself up. He then rushed through the tunnels…he didn't want to give himself time to think about how foolish this decision was.

Harry froze. In front of him was a giant snake skin – sixty feet long at the very least. The Basilisk who shed this must be thicker than an oak tree. What was he getting himself into? Spell-repellent skin…potent venom…fatal gaze…Harry shook his head. He couldn't stop now. "_In the end, it will be worth it. I promise you_," Harry whispered Nicolas's words to himself like a mantra. It was actually calming, hearing his own voice repeating his mentor's words.

He reached another door further down into the tunnel and hissed, "_Open!_" It parted open, and Harry entered the Chamber. On either side of him were snake entwined pillars. Harry saw at the other end of the Chamber a huge statue of whom he recognized to be Salazar Slytherin. Keeping his senses peeled for any sign of movement, Harry approached the end of the Chamber. There he saw the lifeless form of Ginny, and he rushed towards her body. Reaching for her wrist, he whispered to himself, "Please don't be dead…please…" Relief washed over him when he realized that she wasn't dead.

"Well, if it isn't Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived…"

Harry jumped to his feet, his wand in his hand, and pointed it at who seemed to be a handsome, young Hogwarts student. However, the boy didn't even blink. "Who are you?" Harry asked, his voice shaking. It didn't take him long to realize that this was the Heir Slytherin. Who else could it be?

The boy lifted his hand and Harry's wand flew out of his hand before he could react. "Could you not guess, Harry?"

Harry, despite his fear, was confused. "No…I don't think we've ever met…"

The boy sneered, "I know you have done your research on Hogwarts. You know when the last time the Chamber was opened. Who was the person who won special awards for stopping the attacks by catching Hagrid?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Harry replied promptly. He had done so much research on what happened then, determined to find clues about the Chamber of Secrets, that he knew all the details by heart.

"I am he," the boy said haughtily. "However, perhaps you know me by a different name…" With that, he wrote his name in letters of fire before rearranging them. "You didn't really think I was going to keep my Mudblood father's name, did you?" he taunted.

"Lord Voldemort…" Harry breathed, too shocked to hear his taunt. "You framed Hagrid."

"It was my word against his. Dumbledore was the only one who suspected me, and it was no longer safe for me to open the Chamber while in school. So, I decided to preserve a memory of myself into the pages of the diary that dear Ginny has in her hand right now. By doing so, I could come back again to purify this school of disgusting Mudblood filth."

"SHUT UP!" Harry shouted, his voice ringing throughout the Chamber.

Tom smirked nastily. "Yes, I have heard of you being a passionate Mudblood-lover. Apparently that was one of the things that the stupid Weasley loved most about you. It was always you this, you that. How brave you were, how smart you were, how nice you were…She poured out her soul to me, and it allowed me to eventually take possession of her. It was through her that I opened the Chamber of Secrets, through her that I terrorized the school, through her that I wrote those frightening words on the corridor walls, through her that I chased Dumbledore out of this school…and she was indeed a very good pawn. Of course, however, it's my life over hers. She may be alive, but only just. Soon, she will die, and I will cease to be merely a memory. Lord Voldemort will return, very much alive."

Harry was horrified at his cruel words. He couldn't expect less from Voldemort, but the words still shocked him. "You cruel murderer," Harry whispered under his breath.

Tom laughed, sending chills down Harry's spine. "Say what you like, but Hogwarts will be rid of Mudbloods." Seeing Harry's expression, he taunted, "Mudblood-lover…just like that fool Dumbledore…"

"Dumbledore is the greatest wizard in the world!" Harry said loudly.

"Dumbledore has been driven out of this school by the mere memory of me…"

"He will never be gone!" Harry said fiercely. "Never! Not while those who are loyal to him are still here!"

Tom sneered, "Enough of this talk. Whatever you believe will not save you now from the wrath of the heir of Slytherin himself – the _true_ greatest wizard of all ages!" He turned to the statue of Slytherin. "_Speak to me, Salazar Slytherin, greatest of Hogwarts four!"_

Hearing hissing voices from within the statue, Harry shook with fear, his dissolve melting away like an ice cube in the heat of summer. He was going to face a Basilisk without either a wand or vision. It was even worse than the scenario that Snape came up with. Closing his eyes, he tried to run away. He could hear Riddle ordering the great snake after him. The Basilisk was slithering closer and closer…he was going to die…he was going to die…

Suddenly a bright red bird flew through the entrance of the Chamber and dropped something on him. Then it began to attack the Basilisk's eyes, blinding it. Harry was amazed. It was a phoenix, but it wasn't Ferlin. So…now he could look at the Basilisk without dying or being petrified. But what's the use if he had nothing to fight it back with? Unrolling the object given to him, he realized that it was the Sorting Hat. Desperate, he placed it on his head, pleading mentally for help. The next thing he knew, he was nearly knocked unconscious by some hard object from within the hat.

It was a sword – a gleaming silver sword with rubies embedded in the handle. He grabbed it, just as the phoenix was finishing blinding the Basilisk. Harry stepped backwards, keeping the sword between himself and the Basilisk. Compared to the sixty foot Basilisk, the three-foot blade seemed like a child's toy. However, he had a chance of survival now…Adrenaline rushed through him as he stopped retreating and held his ground. This was it. The Basilisk was going to attack. He was going to have only one chance. If he missed…Harry shook his head. No, he couldn't miss. This wasn't him that he was fighting for. This was for Ginny, for Hogwarts, for muggleborns…

The Basilisk reared back and, after flicking its forked tongue out once, struck. It was a direct battle between Slytherin and Gryffindor – Slytherin's Basilisk vs. Gryffindor's sword.

Harry prepared to strike. The Basilisk's mouth was its weak point…At the right moment, he drove the sword right through the roof of the snake's mouth, letting out a gasp of pain as one of the snake's fangs drove into his arm. He yanked the sword out of the snake's mouth and the Basilisk shrieked in agony, thrashing about in pain before falling with a thump onto the Chamber floor. He had done it; he had killed the terror that had been roaming the school for the last few months. Harry stumbled his way towards Ginny's body before falling onto his knees. He could feel the Basilisk venom spreading through his veins. Snape was right about the Basilisk's potent, quickly spreading venom… "F-Fer-" Harry tried but his tongue choked on him and his voice failed him in summoning his phoenix.

"Don't worry, Harry. You'll be with your dear Mudblood mother soon enough," Riddle said coldly. "Know this before you die though. Remember this battle in your afterlife. Fate chooses that the Mudbloods' champion die. Whatever dream you have about such filthy creatures learning magic will never come true."

Harry felt his vision fading and struggled to keep conscious. Hearing Riddle degrading his mother and those he had been fighting for like so hurt him to the core. No doubt that that was his aim. Although if this was dying, it wasn't too bad. The red phoenix who aided him in battle flew over to him. Harry's eyes widened. Of course…could he dare to hope? He was going to survive this…The phoenix bent its head over the wound in his arm and cried hot tears onto it. Harry felt the wound sealing up and the venom clearing his body. His vision returned.

"Of course…phoenix tears…" Riddle hissed. "How could I have forgotten? Oh, well, no matter. If you are not to die by the venom of Slytherin's Basilisk, then you will die by my hand!" He raised Harry's wand at him and was about to utter the Killing Curse. Once again, the unknown phoenix swooped in front of Harry, dropping Riddle's diary onto his lap. "_Avada Kedavra!"_ Riddle cried.

As the green spell rushed towards Harry, the phoenix flew in front of him and took in the Killing Curse, bursting into ashes and resurrecting. Using the sword in his hand, Harry drove it straight into Riddle's diary.

"NO!" Riddle screamed.

Ink was spurting from the diary in torrents. Riddle fell to the ground, writhing in agony, and then…he was gone. Harry's wand rolled to him, and Harry gingerly picked it up. He smiled. He had never felt so tired in his life, but he was happy. He survived, and the muggleborns in the school were safe. And Ginny…

"Harry?" came a familiar voice behind him, sounding disoriented and slightly afraid.

Harry turned to her. "Yes?" he asked kindly.

Looking guilty, Ginny seemed as if she was about to burst into tears. "Oh, Harry, it was me. But I swear I didn't mean to. Riddle made me…" She gasped as her eyes landed on the slain Basilisk. "Did you kill that thing?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm so sorry!" she said, as if desperate for his forgiveness, seeing him weakly stumbling to his feet.

"It's okay," Harry said wearily. He scooped up the baby phoenix on the Chamber floor and placed it into his robes. "Riddle's just a memory now."

"But what will Mom and Dad think? And I'll be expelled for sure! I've always wanted to go to Hogwarts, and now…" Ginny was hysterical. However, she stopped, her eyes wide in surprise, when Harry pulled her into a firm, one-hand hug, his other hand using Gryffindor's sword as a support.

"Riddle was Voldemort, and he has deceived many other, more experienced wizards and witches than you. I'm sure you'll be fine," Harry said comfortingly, smiling. His tired eyes shone. "Although I think we can learn from all this not to trust an object that works like that diary."

Ginny only muttered thickly, "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"

They stayed in that position for a while until Ginny calmed down. Then Harry stumbled forward towards the Basilisk corpse as Ginny looked on, still cautious of the snake. "Its eyes are no longer a danger," he explained, as if he was talking to himself. "However, the other parts of its body are useful. Milly!"

There was a snap and his house elf appeared next to him. "Milly," he said to her, "could you do me a favor?"

"Of course, young master!" she squeaked, shifting uncomfortably at the sight of the Basilisk. However, Harry never asked her to do much more than the usual chores around the Manor, and she was eager to help him more in any way she can.

"Could you take this Basilisk to the Manor and leave it in the chamber under the basement?" he asked. Seeing her flinch at his request, he said quickly, "Of course, if you don't want to do it, I could just come back later and take it apart. But I'll need a special knife and some other equipment…"

"No, no, no! Milly will do it, Sir! Young master Harry needs rest! He looks as if he is about to collapse!" Milly said forcefully, almost sternly.

"Thank you," he said gratefully. He walked back to Ginny. "Alright, let's go back." Seeing her questioning look, he said lightheartedly, "It's not every day you have a sixty-foot, millennium-old Basilisk at your disposal. Its parts could be very prized potion ingredients." Even with everything that just happened, Harry was a scholar through and through, and he was determined to study the King of Serpents. "Ferlin!"

In a flash of bright light, his phoenix appeared on his raised arm. "Take us back, Ferlin," he said softly. Nothing sounded better to him at that moment than returning to his soft, comfortable bed. However, he had to stay awake a bit more to close the case down. Despite his exhaustion, though, he was content. He felt accomplished. His first serious attempt at fighting for muggleborns was successful, and he saved someone's life! He laid a hand on Ginny's shoulder as flames engulfed both of them.

"Thank you, Harry," Ginny said quietly.

"You're welcome," Harry said and thought happily, _Nicolas was right. It was worth it to go down into the Chamber and face a Basilisk if this is what I'm getting out of it._

**If there are any loose ends in the plot so far or if there are any plot holes that people have spot, do send me a review. **

**At this point in time, I would like to draw attention to one of the main things emphasized in this chapter - Harry's humanity. His fear was very great in this chapter - imagine facing a Basilisk with nothing but a three foot sword. However, he overcame his fear through only his compassion and his determination to do what is right.**

******Also emphasized was how Harry's past continued to influence his decisions. He knew fear and hope and allowed his heart to guide him as well as his head. In Harry is a nearly almost perfect balance of heart and mind. **_  
><em>


	15. The Will To Protect

**The Will To Protect**

**As a note, in the previous chapter, the professors didn't refuse to help Harry out – they actually tried to discourage him from going down to the Chamber in the first place. They were acting as any adult would have acted. They were looking out to minimize damage – for the safety of all. Their logic actually make sense if you think about it – Ginny was most likely dead, and their chance of surviving if they went down into the Chamber was close to none. The most likely scenario would be that they go down to the Chamber, find Ginny dead, AND die themselves. Weighing this chance against the chance of them saving Ginny AND surviving was not a good comparison. **

They Apparated into the girl's bathroom - right in front of entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Harry looked back into the pipe and said in a tone filled with wonder, "I can't believe I survived that. Can you imagine? For centuries, Slytherin's Basilisk was living under the school, a ticking time bomb, and now…"

"You killed it and ended muggleborn terrorism in the school," Ginny finished for him. Her eyes shone with admiration, which caused Harry to turn red with embarrassment. He quickly turned away to hide his face and motioned towards the Great Hall.

The two students walked down the corridor, and Harry heaved a sigh of contentment as he saw rays of the morning sun shining through the windows. He lived to see another day. He had been afraid he'd never see the sun rise again. Now, he was safe again. It felt as if he had been down in that Chamber for longer than just one night – which was already exhausting in itself. He led Ginny to the entrance of the Great Hall, behind which he could hear voices, and hesitated outside of it. "Are you ready?" he asked Ginny. His mind had already come up with a hundred different ways the teachers could react to them bursting inside. Seeing Ginny's expression, he laid a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "Everything will be okay," he said soothingly.

Ginny nodded, still looking sick. She grabbed his hand and held it tightly, so much that Harry felt the circulation in his hand went out.

Harry took a deep breath and opened the doors, earning himself cries of shock from the people inside. The teachers, who were taking attendance of the students before they leave for the Hogwarts Express to make sure every student was there, let out gasps. What a sight Harry must've been! He was standing next to a girl whom many concluded to be dead, or at the very least, unsaveable. His robes were in complete disarray, and grime and dirt covered him from head to toe. Then, in Harry's hand was the gleaming sword of Godric Gryffindor, the blade of which was covered in the blood of the Basilisk.

Professor McGonagall ran towards them. She appeared speechless. Then she said weakly, "Mr. Potter, wh-where have you been? We were looking for you everywhere, and many thought you were…and Ms. Weasley…" She couldn't finish. So many emotions flitted across her face – relief, shock, concern…

Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout arrived after her. Snape's face was pale, his hair in a disheveled mess. His eyes showed his relief when they landed on Harry. Then he burst out in anger – such that no one had ever seen him, "What were you thinking, you idiotic boy? You could've gotten yourself killed!"

Harry winced, more from his head pounding from the loud scolds than fear. He knew none of the teachers would ever raise a hand against him, no matter how angry they were with him. "I couldn't just leave her down there," he protested, although his voice didn't carry the force behind it. The light from the dawning sun was running over the castle grounds, and he was tired, having stayed up all night.

Snape's fists clenched and his lower lip trembled. He never looked more menacing. However, seeming to take much self discipline, he marched away to burn off some steam.

After a long silence, McGonagall took a long shaking breath before saying, "Follow me, the both of you. Professor Dumbledore has been reinstated just this morning, and I think he would like to speak to you. Potter, consider yourself to be lucky to leave the Chamber with your life intact. And Ms. Weasley…" Her eyes rested upon Harry. It didn't take a genius to figure out that despite everything, he had gained a phenomenal amount of her respect and admiration. "…consider yourself also lucky to have someone watching out for you."

As they walked through the corridors, they saw students with their bags, ready to leave Hogwarts. Some were crying. Some were hugging their friends. However, everyone stopped what they were doing when they saw the trio making their way towards Dumbledore's office. Harry felt extremely self-conscious at that moment. The whispers escalated. People were pointing at Gryffindor's sword, still covered in the blood of the Basilisk, and Ginny, who, looking nervous and edgy, was walking extremely close to Harry, who was too tired to tell her to give him some room to walk comfortably.

McGonagall left them once they were in Dumbledore's office. She laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and said quietly, "While what you did was extremely reckless, I think that is a selfless recklessness that we should all learn – to save lives despite the risk to ourselves. It is a shame that we teachers have to be taught such by a student whom we're supposed to be models for." She smiled sadly and left the room.

A deafening silence filled the room. Harry's face was bright red.

"Well, Harry, I assume you have a lot to tell me?" Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "And Ms. Weasley, too, no doubt."

"Please, sir," Harry said, seeing Ginny flinch. "It wasn't her…it was Voldemort."

"I know," Dumbledore replied simply. "He opened it the first time, and I was there to witness all that went on. I had no doubts that he was behind this one as well. Do not concern yourself with Ms. Weasley's status. She will be in no way punished. Voldemort has deceived cleverer witches and wizards." He stood up and went around his desk. "Now, Ms. Weasley, I would like to tell you that your parents had been much panicked when they discovered you were taken down into the Chamber. It would be a disfavor to them to leave them waiting to see you. They are waiting for you in Professor McGonagall's office as we speak."

After Ginny left, Harry immediately asked Dumbledore, "Do you have a Wideye Potion, Sir? I can barely stay awake as it is."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose before he smiled gently. "No, I do not, Harry. However, we have plenty of time to talk after you get some sleep."

Harry shook his head. "Not yet, Sir. There are many loose ends to pick up…"

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well. What loose ends do you wish to discuss so desperately that you're willing to postpone sleep?"

Harry reached inside his robe pocket and showed him the baby phoenix. "Somehow, Sir, I had a feeling that this phoenix belongs to you. He saved my life down in the Chamber." He handed the sleeping bird to Dumbledore, who gently took it in his hand.

"Yes, in fact, he is. His name is Fawkes, if you are curious."

Harry laid Riddle's diary and Gryffindor's sword on Dumbledore's desk. "It's a long story, Sir, but…" With that, he began to tell him the entire story – including the voices he had been hearing throughout the semester and what occurred down in the Chamber.

After he finished his story, Dumbledore closed his eyes. Then he opened them again and looked out the window. "I do not pretend to know all of this castle's secrets. I never knew where the Chamber was located. I could not stop the attacks last time it happened nor could I stop the attacks this time around."

"Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you think that I am descended from Slytherin?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "No, Harry. I do not think you are related to him in any way." Then his expression became more serious. "Voldemort is the last living descendent of Slytherin. Do not worry yourself, Harry. Voldemort can speak Parseltongue, and he only transferred some of his abilities to you when he went after you that fateful night."

"Just curious, Sir, did you know I was down there in the Chamber? Was that why you sent Fawkes?"

"It was not I who sent Fawkes to you, Harry." Dumbledore beamed at him. "Phoenixes are very loyal creatures to their owners. Your own loyalty to me down in the Chamber was what called Fawkes to you." There was no question in his tone. "For that, I must thank you."

Harry grinned sheepishly. Then he jumped when Lucius Malfoy burst through the office doors…with Dobby at his heels. _So this is his master…_

"Well, well, well, I see the Board of Governors has reinstated you," Lucius told Dumbledore coldly.

"Yes, they have after Ms. Weasley was taken down into the Chamber itself," the Headmaster said calmly. "Although I was under the impression that they were blackmailed into sacking me in the first place. Blackmailed by you if I'm not mistaken."

Harry noted Dobby's meaningful movements and then it all clicked. Malfoy, the diary, Ginny…

"Nonsense," Lucius lied smoothly. "My first priority is always the safety of the students. Don't you ever think for a moment otherwise. Come, Dobby. The old man is becoming senile." With that, he kicked the house elf out the doors.

Harry grabbed Riddle's diary and ran after Lucius. "Mr. Malfoy!" he called. "I have something I want to return to you!" He handed Malfoy, Sr. the diary. "I just thought you might want it back," he said.

Lucius sneered and handed it to Dobby. "Prove it, boy. Who was behind the attacks? Was it not one of the Weasley offspring?"

"It was Voldemort," Harry said simply.

Lucius snorted. "And I thought one cannot become more senile than that fool of a Headmaster…"

"Master has given Dobby a sock…"

"What?" Lucius turned to Dobby. "I didn't…" His eyes widened. The diary was opened to a page and a sock was stuck between the pages. He turned to Harry in fury. "You…you dare…YOU LOST ME MY SERVANT!" he roared. How dare this boy, barely a twelve-year-old, make a mockery of him! "I'll kill you!" However, in the next second, he was knocked backwards. He looked up to see Dobby with his arms folded, glaring at him.

"You shall not harm Harry Potter!" the elf said angrily.

Lucius, shaking in anger, got to his feet, trying to gain as much of his dignity back as possible before saying to Harry, "Watch yourself, boy, or you'll end up like your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either."

"No, they knew exactly what was good, and I'm not afraid to follow in their footsteps," Harry replied promptly. True, it was his natural tendency to act in self-preservation rather than morality. However, Nicolas himself told him to fight it, and he did. Nothing but good came out of it. He wasn't afraid to do it again.

Lucius's nostrils flared before he marched away.

Dobby looked up at him. "Harry Potter has saved Dobby! How can Dobby ever repay him?"

"You can do just one thing…" He gave him a beaming smile. "Live. Live your life the way you want to. You just got your freedom." He walked back into Dumbledore's office, where Dumbledore appeared as though he never left his place by the window. He went over to stand next to the Headmaster.

"Do you know what gives us the greatest strength, Harry?"

"What, Sir?" he asked.

"The will to protect," Dumbledore replied. "When you realize you have more to fight for than just yourself, you see what truly is at stake, and you realize that you can't, you must not fail. That is where true strength comes from. Your will to protect Ms. Weasley, your will to protect the muggleborns in this school, your will to protect Hogwarts. In many cases, that strength can also transfer to those you protect because they know that there is someone watching over them…That reminds me, Harry. Have you even stopped to realize what season it is?" He motioned to the window.

Harry smiled. Snow was falling. He had been so busy with the Chamber of Secrets that he hadn't even stop to realize that today was the first snowfall.

"I think, Harry, you have given this school the best Christmas present – even if it is a bit early." He turned around just in time to catch Harry, who had collapsed while on his feet. Harry had fallen asleep – right into Dumbledore's arms. The Headmaster carried the sleep-deprived boy to his dormitories and took extra care to put spells around his bed, making sure that his sleep wouldn't be disturbed.

….

Harry opened his eyes and sat up in bed, yawning and ruffling his hair. He was full of energy. He jumped out of bed and ran down to the hospital wing to visit Hermione. However, when he reached there, she was gone, as well as the others who had been petrified. He wasn't worried though. In fact he was quite happy. There was no doubt that they must have been restored by the Mandrake Draught. He rushed down to the Great Hall. It was late in the morning, and he had a feeling that he had slept for an entire day.

As he burst through the entrance doors, excited to see the school normal and safe for the first time in a long time, he found everyone's eyes on him. His energy seemed to fade away to self-consciousness. "Um," he said awkwardly. "How's everyone been doing?"

Suddenly the Great Hall erupted into cheers and applause. Harry turned a bright red – something he seemed to be doing often in the last two days. Then he found himself engulfed in a hug by Hermione. "Hermione!"

"I couldn't believe it!" she said happily. "You killed the Basilisk! You saved the school, Harry, and Ginny's life!" She pulled away from him. Then she seemed indecisive about something. "You know, I don't know whether I should hit you or hug you again."

"Why?" he asked stupidly.

"Well, one thing, you could've died, and then I would've lost my best friend. On the other hand, you just freed all the muggleborns in this school from a terror." She paused and then sighed. "I suppose I should start getting used to you doing reckless things like this."

"Whenever I need to. I can't stop it, Hermione. I would've felt really guilty otherwise."

Hermione lightly smacked him on the side of his head. "You and your stupid hero complex are going to get yourself killed." Then she hugged him again. "But I suppose this is what I love the most about you though, and I also got a feeling that others feel the same way. Despite feeling worried for you, I feel safe when I'm around you…as if no matter how bad things get, you'll make things okay."

Harry turned even redder than before. "That's a bit too optimistic, Hermione…"

The entrance doors burst open and a giant of a man entered the Great Hall. He had wild hair and a wild beard. Harry recognized him as Hagrid from their first encounter in first year when he greeted the first years and led them on the boats to Hogwarts. "Sorry I'm late," he said gruffly. "Now where's young Harry?"

Hermione pushed Harry towards the huge man. Harry looked up and said quietly, "I am, Sir."

Hagrid's black eyes peered at him, and the two stared at each other for a moment before he said awkwardly, "Thank you. Azkaban wasn't a field of pansies, and er…"

"No problem," Harry said lightly. However, he felt as though a ton of stone had just been dropped into his stomach. Sirius was still in Azkaban…As he watched the large man walked towards his place at the staff table, Harry took a deep breath. Christmas was approaching. He had to do this. "Hermione, I need your help in something."

"What is it, Harry?" she asked, worried.

Harry sat down in his seat. As strange as it was, he had never visited Sirius in Azkaban although visitors were allowed with special precautions. He had been too afraid to visit a man who could have been like a father to him all his life. He was afraid to visit him because Sirius in Azkaban in such a state was…inhuman. Harry had seen a picture of Sirius at Potter Manor, and the man seemed so energetic and healthy. Harry has also seen pictures of Azkaban convicts, and associating the two pictures together, he couldn't bear it. It was like emotional torture. He didn't want to see Sirius in such a state…However, he felt guilty. Sirius was living in his cell alone with only the Dementors' influence and criminals as company. He should get over his qualms and visit him. No doubt that it would make Sirius's Christmas…but he would need help and a bit of support. "Hermione, I need you to come with me to Azkaban this Christmas," he said, shaken. She was going to think he was crazy.

Hermione gaped. "What? What crazy ideas are you coming up with? The wizard prison? But, Harry, only the worst wizards and witches are imprisoned there!"

"Or framed murderers," he replied. "Please, Hermione, I can't do this alone. I need to visit someone."

She shifted uncomfortably. "Oh, alright, but you have some explaining to do!"

He nodded promptly. "I'll tell you after dinner."

However, after the feast, Ron pulled Harry away from Hermione. "Harry."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Hello, Ron."

Ron seemed to be extremely uncomfortable in telling Harry what he wanted. However, Harry remained patient. This must be good because Ron hadn't spoken to him since the beginning of the year when Harry yelled at him for being inconsiderate towards Hermione. Finally, Ron spilled it out, "Could you tell me what I did to get Gran- I mean Hermione nearly killed last year?"

"So, you finally admit that words can kill after some words from a diary nearly took your sister's life?" Harry asked. His voice held no sympathy for the boy. Ron was not receiving any reprieve from him. This was going to be done properly.

Ron winced. Then he took a deep breath and said, "Yes."

With that, Harry told him about how his words brought Hermione to tears, how she didn't learn about the troll because she was in the bathroom, and how the troll nearly killed her. Harry skipped over the details of his battle with the troll though.

"I didn't know…" the boy muttered quietly under his breath.

"You do realize that you saying that to her was almost like Riddle talking to Ginny? Both your and Riddle's words were aimed to hurt. Although Hermione's death would have been unintentional, the end result could've been the same. Our words are very powerful, so watch how you use them as a weapon." Harry watched with satisfaction and some sympathy as Ron seemed to crumble at the analogy. He knew full well that he was hurting Ron worse than a bludger right now. Ironic – words really can hurt people. However, in this case, his words would heal Ron in the long run. The boy needed to see the full extent of the consequences of his actions. "I suggest you do something about it to differentiate yourself from your sister's would-be murderer – besides just differences in intentions." With that, he walked away.

"Thanks for saving my sister," Ron called after him. "I can imagine how Hermione must've felt when you saved her – as if someone was always watching over her. It's a nice feeling. She's really lucky to have you for a friend."

Harry smiled, although his cheeks turned red – yet again. Those must be the deepest words that ever came out of Ron's mouth. Although he had been hearing that a lot lately and although he does feel a bit embarrassed that everyone was saying that to him, he also couldn't help but feel happy – as if a balloon was being blown up inside of him. "We could be friends, too, Ron. It really depends on you." As he rounded the corner, he turned around to see Ron running up to Hermione. He was saying something to her. Then she slapped him before saying something back to him. After that, she marched away towards where Harry was standing.

Ron, on the other hand, seemed uplifted. With one hand massaging his cheek, he walked away with a bounce to his step.

Hermione marched up to Harry. "Harry, what happened? I've never seen Ron so serious! And his apology was so sincere! I don't think I could have gotten a more sincere apology from anyone!"

"Wait, then why did you slap him?" Harry asked, half-laughing and half-confused.

"It made me feel better, but I told him I forgive him. Now what did you say to him?"

"Oh, I just told him that what he did was comparable to what Riddle did to Ginny."

"You're horrible."

"I know." Harry chuckled. Then he glanced at the staff table. "I just realized something. Where's Lockhart?"

Hermione shrugged. "Apparently after Ginny got taken down into the Chamber, the teachers got so fed up with Lockhart that they told him to go after the Basilisk; it happened right after you were taken back to the common rooms I've heard."

"He never came though," Harry said, frowning.

"That was because he fled," she replied, looking slightly disappointed. "He was too scared to face the Basilisk."

"That's cool. Now, if I ever see him in Flourish and Blotts, I'll make sure to remind him of why he quit the job," Harry said coolly. "Such a fraud."

"Harry, you don't know that…"

"Oh, please…he couldn't even take care of pixies!" Harry looked at the wintry world outside. "Hey, we have a few more days before the holidays. You want to go outside?" At her affirmative, they both went to get their thick winter cloaks and scarves.

"You know, you're starting to be really famous around the school, and not in the bad way either," Hermione said as they were walking along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "I mean, people are calling you all kinds of things – "Guardian of the Sorcerer's Stone," "Slayer of Slytherin's Basilisk," etc."

"It's not as great as everyone thinks, you know. They don't know how it feels to know what's at stake in the case of failure. It could be someone's life you're holding in your hands."

Hermione was quiet for a moment before she said softly, "But you know, Harry, there's really only one title that fits you."

"What?"

They stopped in front of the frozen lake. Hermione whispered one word, "Protector."

Harry smiled. He actually liked that title – even if its implications could be dire. "Oh, that reminds me. You wanted to know why I want to visit Azkaban. Well, the story starts about thirteen years ago, when Voldemort was at the full height of his power and my parents went into hiding…"

**Please review!**


	16. The Escape of Sirius Black

**The Escape of Sirius Black**

**So, someone pointed out that there were some inconsistencies in my story – such as the fact that it seemed acceptable for Hermione to hit Ron for hurting her but not for Harry to attack Malfoy for calling her a Mudblood. I can assure you that there were no mistakes in me placing them in different contexts. The difference between the situation with Harry and Draco and the situation with Hermione and Ron was that Harry had been on the edge of nearly killing Draco with a curse. If my readers could recall, the tip of Harry's wand was at Malfoy's throat – even a simple curse could fatally wound. On the other hand, Hermione simply slapped Ron for being a jerk. The two scenarios are quite different. **

**Words do hurt, and Harry simply found a more clever way to hit Ron with the fact – by relating his actions to Riddle's. This tactic would not have worked with Malfoy. But of course, I have no intention of letting Malfoy off the hook. He'll be playing a very large role in my story shortly. **

As Christmas was approaching, Harry was busier than ever. He studied Transfiguration with a renewed fervor since his discovery of the Basilisk. Every night would end with his head on an open Transfiguration book, his glasses skewed. Many of his ancestors' portraits often commented that Harry's a "work-aholic" due to Harry's love of working. Every day, the twelve-year-old boy would wake up at six in the morning and began to work on dissecting and preserving the parts of the massive Basilisk that he slew. It was tedious work, but Harry seemed to enjoy it, not even using magic to cut the creature open. What impressed all was the fact that as Harry was cutting the creature open, there was almost a respectful gleam in his eyes – as if he was amazed at Nature's work of arranging the anatomical structure of the creature. Harry's only response to his relatives' probing questions was that, "Nature's the most ingenious artist of us all."

So the days passed with Harry writing dozens of pages of notes on the anatomy of the basilisk, carefully preserving the organs according to the books, scavenging the parts of the basilisk, and reconstructing two models of the basilisk from its skin and its skeleton. Harry was amazed at how much venom the creature had – twelve jars full with each potent drop having the ability to kill. On Christmas Eve, Harry's work of the Basilisk reached its end. Altogether, Harry was very proud of himself for putting the skeleton together. Now that he looked at it, he wondered how he even survived the encounter with such a massive creature with just a three foot sword.

That night, he stood facing his balcony from inside the glass doors. He could see the snowstorm outside and couldn't help realizing how beautiful it was. "I wonder how many others have the same eyes as I do," he said out loud. It was late, but for once, he wasn't poring over a Transfiguration book. Instead, he was thinking about the next day when he would be seeing Sirius. It was a nervous thought at the very least. But…could Sirius see the same thing he was seeing – a beautiful but sad snowstorm?

Sighing, Harry closed his eyes. Sirius… How much the man had suffered… To lose his love ones, to have his good reputation stripped to nothing, to be framed when innocent, to spend years in what is known as hell on earth… It was another thing to add to his list of reasons for hating how the present Ministry was run.

…

Harry and Hermione stood outside the entrance to Azkaban with two Auror supervisors next to them. Harry wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. In the dead of winter, the prison was even colder than it usually was, even though it was warmer within the walls than outside of it. The wind whipped Harry's hair wildly as he observed the desolate place.

"I can't believe you kids want to visit Black in Azkaban in the dead of winter," Dawlish said, slightly grumpily. However, his partner Kingsley didn't say anything, only seemingly observing Harry.

"It's Christmas," Harry replied simply. He felt Hermione slowly took his hand. Her touch was gentle and warm and he took comfort in it. Never had his chest felt so empty, so cold. Azkaban was truly a place of despair. Taking a deep breath, he followed the Aurors into the prison. He took a double take inside and felt Hermione did the same. A disgusting stench filled their nostrils and Harry nearly threw up. "What is this?" he gasped out.

Dawlish wrinkled his nose but stood stoically, waiting for the two friends to catch their breath. "That would be human wastes and unwashed bodies. You don't think people take showers in Azkaban, do you? They are so trapped within their minds that they can't take care of their own basic needs. Some even stop eating so that they could waste away and die."

"That's inhumane!" Hermione cried, indignantly, speaking up for the first time since they arrived.

Dawlish snorted. "Think about what you're saying! We don't imprison people for no reason! These are mass murderers and terrorists!"

Harry ignored him and focused his attention on the nearest cell. Movements caught his attention towards a corner. Then he jumped as what supposed to be a man stood up. The man was dangerously thin with rags hanging onto his body like a second layer of skin. The skin around his eyes sunk deep into his skull and his cheeks were hollow, giving his head the appearance of a skull with really long hair. The man leaned against the stone wall for support and observed the visitors with deathlike eyes. "Who's that?" Harry asked weakly. Seeing the effects of Azkaban in person was even worse than seeing it in the books.

Dawlish shrugged. "He's been there for several years for attacking some Muggle boys or something for no reason at all."

Watching the man, Harry couldn't help but be reminded of the pictures of the Nazi concentration camps he had seen in the Muggle history books. How many people were put in prison for crimes they did not commit? He swallowed and turned away from the man. He was afraid to see Sirius now. However, he once again felt Hermione's trembling, yet comforting hand on his hand. With that, he took deep breaths to calm his racing heart and said weakly, "I want to see Sirius."

Dawlish and Kingsley raised their eyebrows and sent each other looks. Then they turned around and casted the Patronus Charms, warming the atmosphere up considerably. However, dread was still in Harry's heart as they reached the end of the hallway. Inside a cell, he made out the outline of a man curled up in the corner.

"Hey, Black," Dawlish growled. "You have a visitor."

Sirius slowly turned his head, and Harry's breathing quickened at the sight of his godfather. Long matted hair was tangled around his sunken, gaunt face. He was unshaven, and his eyes were deathlike with a hint of madness in them. The man was deathly thin and his rags hung off of his frame. His eyes widened when they landed on Harry.

Kingsley muttered something to Dawlish under his breath and they began arguing in quiet voices before Kingsley said in a low voice, "Harry…"

Harry widened his eyes. The man acted on such familiar terms with him, calling him by his first name.

Kingsley glanced at Sirius before saying, "We'll be at the end of the hallway if you need us." With that, he led Dawlish out. Dawlish made no effort to conceal his disagreement with the decision. However, Harry inwardly felt grateful to the dark-skinned Auror.

"James?" Sirius rasped. He stumbled towards the bars of his cell and grasped them to hold up his weight. "No, it can't be…"

Harry gulped and approached the bars, trembling. "No, I'm Harry, your godson." Ignoring the fact that Sirius was filthy, Harry gently covered the man's hands with his own. Nearly choking over his own voice, Harry whispered, "Merry Christmas, Sirius." A pang of pain hit his chest – what a lie he just told. This was anything but merry.

Sirius's shoulders trembled before he lunged at Harry and grabbed his arms so tightly that Harry winced in pain. An almost maniacal look reached his eyes as he pleaded desperately, "I swear, Harry, I didn't do it. I would never betray James. Believe me. We were like brothers…we were brothers, Harry…"

"I know, Sirius," Harry cut him off. It was heartbreaking. Sirius resembled nothing like his pictures at Potter Manor. "I know," Harry repeated quietly.

Sirius's eyes widened in surprise. "Y-you know…that I was innocent?"

He nodded. Tears welled up in Harry's eyes, but he blinked them away. "I should have visited you earlier, Sirius," Harry said, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm sorry…"

Sirius seemed not to have heard his words. After he saw Harry's nod, he muttered to himself, "I have been in Azkaban for eleven years. Could it be that I have gone mad without me knowing it? My godson is visiting me in prison and believes that I'm innocent. It's too good to be true." Then he raised his head to look at Harry. "How did you know? Didn't the rest of the Wizarding World tell you that I'm a mass murderer?" he asked bitterly.

"I might have believed them, except for the fact that I know that Peter Pettigrew was the real Secret-Keeper and that he was a rat Animagus."

"How…?" Sirius asked, shocked. Harry kept surprising him.

"Well, it's a long story, but I live in Potter Manor. There were portraits of my parents and paternal ancestors there," Harry explained. His arms were going numb because of Sirius's tight grip. "My parents explained about the switch."

Sirius sucked in a breath before saying quietly, "Potter Manor…it was both a paradise and a haven for me."

"You've been to Potter Manor?" Harry asked, surprised. His father's portrait didn't tell him that.

Sirius's eyes seemed to look at something far away. "I lived with your father and your grandparents for several years at Potter Manor. After James got married to Lily, they moved to Godric's Hollow because Lily didn't like living like aristocrats…" Then as if in a mood swing, Sirius growled furiously, dry sobs interwoven in his speech, "That damn rat Pettigrew! HE SHOULD HAVE DIED! HE SHOULD HAVE DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY HIS FRIENDS!"

Harry wanted to break those bars that were imprisoning the innocent man. Sirius didn't deserve any of this. "Sirius, you need to get out of here," he whispered. "I don't have any evidence to win you a free trial, but isn't there any way to break you out of here?" he asked desperately. It was a crazy thought but still...

Sirius's dark eyes met Harry's…

Thirty minutes later, Harry and Sirius separated, and Harry returned to where Hermione was standing, watching the exchange. Harry had a tired but determined look on his face. "Thanks, Hermione," he said wearily. Coming into Azkaban was a lot easier when he knew that Hermione was there beside him.

She nodded and looked back at Sirius with a sad expression on her face. She hated the idea of someone innocent being reduced to such a level – it was a great degradation of human dignity. Sirius was treated worse than a dog here. However, seeing Harry interact with Sirius was, in a way, one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. Truly, one should only look down on someone to pull them up.

The trip back to the mainland was uneventful. On land, the Aurors left the two friends to return to their work. Harry stood facing the direction of Azkaban and frowned. Such a terrible place. He wondered about others who have been imprisoned unjustly.

"Harry, what are you going to do about Sirius?" Hermione asked softly.

Harry turned towards her. "How do you know I'm going to do something about him?" he asked, surprised.

Hermione couldn't help but let out a slightly strained laugh. "Harry, I would have recognized that look on your face when we were leaving Azkaban from anywhere. You always have that look when you're about to do the right, although not the easiest, thing." Then she laid a hand on his arm. "So what are you going to do?"

"Well," Harry said, smiling at how much she knew him despite the stress he was feeling at the moment. "I'm not really going to do much about it at all, although I might record what's about to happen." He closed his eyes. "Sirius is going to escape from Azkaban."

"What?" Hermione turned to him. "Harry, no one has ever escaped from Azkaban! Stop him before he gets himself killed or worse be sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss!" She felt she didn't know this Harry. How could he just allow the man, who has been weakened by years in Azkaban, to escape from the prison?

Harry smiled, although it was strained. "Do you know why no one has ever escaped from Azkaban, Hermione?"

Confusion was written across her face as she thought about the implications. "Well, there are a number of reasons! You have Dementors and the fact that Azkaban is out in the middle of the sea!"

"Yeah, but the prisoners are witches and wizards, just like the Ministry officials who have control over the Dementors. What makes the two types of people so different?"

"Well, most of the prisoners are criminals and they…" Realization dawned on Hermione. "Y-you gave him your wand, Harry, didn't you?" she asked, horrified. "Harry, how could you? I know he is innocent, but still, you don't give a stranger your wand!"

"He's my godfather, Hermione," Harry said quietly. "And in some ways, we really aren't strangers. We both lost people who were precious to us. We both suffered a lot. Soon, we'll have one more thing in common – we will have both been saved."

Hermione sighed. It was too late anyway to argue with him. Sirius was already in possession of Harry's wand. Her friend had a serious hero complex.

"I have read about the Patronus Charm, which is the only thing effective against a Dementor," Harry said with worry in his voice. "Sirius is too weak in the mind to cast one. In order for our plan to work, he'll have to get past the Dementors first. Then he'll have enough strength to Apparate to Potter Manor."

"How will he do that, Harry?"

"He's an Animagus. He'll slip past them in the form of a dog, which will lessen the effects they have on him. I'm just worried that this plan might not work out so well," Harry said.

"Harry, you're so stupid! Then you wouldn't only lose your godfather, but you could lose your wand, too!" Hermione cried.

Harry winced. "I would rather not think about it," he muttered. "Can we just enjoy the rest of our Christmas? Let's go to London. It's really pretty in Christmastime." He grabbed her hand and used phoenix Apparition to London. There, he took her to a concert and a movie before they simply strolled around a park. The city was simply brilliant with lights and twinkling Christmas trees. When they returned to Potter Manor, both of them were more relaxed, some of the stress from that morning having disappeared. For the rest of the evening, Harry and Hermione simply settled down in Harry's living room. Despite Harry worrying about his godfather and his wand, every time the thought popped into his head, he dismissed it, focusing on his time with Hermione. Christmas was his favorite holiday, and he wasn't about to end it badly if he could help it.

Around midnight, Harry stood up, yawning. "How about we call it a night?"

Hermione nodded sleepily. "I totally agree…"

Suddenly loud knocks could be heard in the hallway, making both of them jump. Both of them ran towards the door with Harry already knowing who was there. He yanked open the double doors to reveal Sirius standing there in the snow, shivering from the cold. The man seemed unsteady on his feet. Then he fell forwards onto his knees, collapsing into Harry's arms. Hermione closed the doors, and Sirius's fingers relaxed, dropping Harry's wand.

"Sirius!" Harry cried.

The man groaned weakly.

"Milly! Holly! Cassy!" The house elves appeared in the order that he called them. "Can you help Sirius clean up and prepare a room for him?" Harry asked urgently. After they took care of Sirius, Harry motioned for Hermione to follow him downstairs to the potions lab. "He's really weak. We'll need nutrition potions and a potion that will clear him of any parasites on him…" Harry rattled off. He pulled down jars of ingredients from the shelves and began brewing carefully. He and Hermione split up the potions needed and when they were finished, there were four potions altogether – a strong nutrition potion, a potion that would rid Sirius of any parasites (or others of the sort), a Dreamless sleep potion, and a strengthening potion.

These, Harry took a bottle of each into Sirius's room at the top of the stairs. However, it seems as if the house elves weren't done with him yet. Harry paced Sirius's room. Was Sirius in such a condition that three house elves couldn't tend to him?

"Harry, he'll be okay now," Hermione said soothingly. "I'm sure the elves are just being thorough with him."

"That would be right," came a raspy voice from the door.

Harry looked up and his eyes widened. It was phenomenal. He'll have to thank the elves profusely afterwards. Sirius looked better by far. His hair was cut shorter and now they lay handsomely in layered spikes. He was cleanly shaved and he was much cleaner. Even though his eyes still seemed deathlike and there were still a lot of evidence from his stay in Azkaban, Sirius standing there in something other than dirty rags was encouraging. "The elves are the best I know." He stumbled forwards to sit on the bed.

Harry offered him the potions, and the man drank them without question. Afterwards, Harry shifted awkwardly before saying, "Good night, Sirius."

"Good night, Harry," the man said tiredly. "But before you go…"

Harry paused at the door.

"Do you have your wand?"

Harry pulled out his phoenix feather wand and nodded.

Sirius let out a sigh and closed his eyes. "It is the greatest trust between two wizards when one allows the other the use of his wand. Thank you for believing me so quickly, Harry, and for visiting me in prison. They were the best Christmas presents I ever received."

Harry's eyes widened. "N-no problem," he stammered. "Good night, Sirius." As he exited, he wanted to hit himself. Why didn't he visit Sirius earlier? Why was he such a coward? However, at the same time these thoughts were running through his head, he also couldn't help but feel joy. Even though Sirius was still not a free man, he was at least free from the Dementors and Azkaban.

The next morning, Hermione left for home early while Sirius was still sleeping. Harry, after taking her home, began to make breakfast. He fried eggs, bacon, sausages, and potatoes, toasted bread, and then made some coffee. A tapping sound on the window caused him to stop what he was doing and allow Hedwig to fly inside with the Daily Prophet attached to her leg. Opening up the Wizarding World's newspaper, he frowned.

_SIRIUS BLACK HAS ESCAPED FROM AZKABAN! – Last night, the mass murderer by the name of Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban. For decades, Azkaban has been thought to be inescapable. This event will attest to the power of this criminal. We advise all to exercise great caution…_

Harry sipped his coffee calmly in the kitchens. Sirius was safe at Potter Manor, which was protected by the Fidelius Charm.

"You know, this place holds nothing but good memories for me," Sirius said, descending the stairs and into the kitchen, the doors to which were opened. He sniffed, and commented, "Something smells really good."

Harry looked up at his godfather. "Help yourself," he said, motioning towards the food on the counter. He couldn't help but smile at how well his godfather looked. The potions had worked wonders. The nutrition potion filled him out slightly and the strengthening potion strengthened his muscles, which were weak from years of little use. The dark circles under the man's eyes had lightened a bit after such a good night sleep.

Sirius piled some food onto his plate and began to eat wolfishly. "This is really good," he said. "Did the elves make it…?"

Harry interrupted him indignantly, "No, I did!"

Sirius choked on his food. "What? No twelve-year-old would be cooking all his meals! Harry, you have house elves if you don't want to cook!"

Harry snorted. "But I like cooking!"

There was a silence before a spark lit up Sirius's eyes. Then he got back to eating, but not before sending jab at Harry while smirking, "You're such a lady."

Harry's mouth fell open. "Okay, that was uncalled for! I just don't want to be a lazy bum while all the house elves do all the work!" Did Sirius really recovered that quickly from eleven years in Azkaban? Harry got his answer when he looked into Sirius's dark eyes, still filled with a deathlike gaze. No, of course not…No doubt seeing Harry brought back many memories of him and James. This was only his way of recovering – he hasn't recovered yet…

"Wizards are supposed to be lazy – that's why we have magic," Sirius replied with a straight face.

Harry took a deep breath and played along, giving his godfather a grin. This was not how he imagined his talk with his godfather in the morning would be, but at least it was a lot less awkward. Their banter would make the conversation, not to mention bonding, much easier.

"See, the only things that wizards should be good at are dueling and pranking," Sirius said in a lecturing tone. "If you can't do them, then you're not a wizard."

"I don't really know how to duel, and I have never pranked anyone in my life," Harry replied with a straight face.

Sirius's eyes widened. "You're joking."

Harry shook his head, grinning.

Sirius's right eye twitched. "James would've killed me for allowing his son to not know how to duel and prank…"

**Please review!**


	17. Peter Pettigrew on the Train

**Peter Pettigrew on the Train**

**Sorry for the long wait, but I had all sorts of projects and tests going on…Oh, I feel at this point that I should tell you that this story will be very epic in length. It also goes very slowly, but each chapter serves a purpose, so yeah…**

Harry stood with his wand raised at shoulder height, his eyes shining with excitement. Sirius was next to him in the same position.

"Now, Harry, remember that in a duel, you need to have better reflexes and quicker _action_ time. Right now, you know a lot of very good spells, but you think too much in a duel. Calling up spells should be second nature to a duelist, as well as jumping out of the paths of Unforgivables!" Sirius flicked his wand and from a machine across the room, offensive objects came shooting at him, from flames to what appeared to be bullets.

Harry watched with awe as his godfather defended himself in the most impressive manner. Despite spending more than a decade in Azkaban, the man's dueling skills didn't seem to dull at all. If Sirius's skills were any indication of James's and Lily's, Harry thought that it wasn't too hard to imagine how all of them could have denied Voldemort for so long and get away with it. Watching Sirius duel was a beautiful sight. He was so graceful…if an attack was so powerful as to push his wand arm back, he simply spun around, avoiding the next attack and continuing to defend himself.

Sirius didn't say a single word as he flicked the bullets away from him. Hitting the floors and walls, they burst into smoke. Then, just as the machine was about to spurt out flames at him, he jabbed his wand in its direction and a electricity burst out from the end of his wand, hitting the machine, which sizzled before the barrage of attacks stopped. "Of course, better reflexes and quicker action times can only come from practice. I don't know of any easier way. If you do, tell me because I want to be the richest man to have ever lived!" He twirled the wand in his hand easily.

Harry's eyes shone in admiration. They had gone to Diagon Alley earlier in the holidays with Sirius disguised as an elderly man to buy a wand from Ollivander's to replace the one the Ministry snapped, and since then, Harry could not stop admiring Sirius's grace with the wand. They had begun Harry's training with dueling, and Sirius was never below showing off to encourage Harry to reach and even go beyond such a level. First of all, however, they needed to work on Harry's reflexes, which were very pathetic, according to Sirius. If thinking up of a spell to use in a pressuring situation wasn't second nature to him, there was no way that he would win a duel against a competent wizard ("And if you're up against a powerful Dark wizard, you're screwed" – Sirius).

Grinning cockily, Sirius ruffled Harry's hair affectionately. It was the end of the winter holidays, and Sirius and Harry were trying to spend as much time together as possible. Sirius's health had improved immensely, and he appeared happier than ever, especially when spending time with Harry – whether it is giving his godson tips to advance through Transfiguration or practicing dueling. He was in the home of those whom he considered his true family. He was able to talk with 'James' and 'Lily' and sleep under a roof that held many happy memories for him. "When your opponent is attacking, always have a defensive spell at the tip of your tongue and be ready to dodge. At any break in their attack, shoot an offensive spell at them and get ready to repeat the process. Now, Harry, if you would give it a try…" Sirius let out a bark of laughter at the horrified expression on Harry's face, which turned into a pout before giving into laughter as well.

"That's not funny, Sirius!" Harry protested lightly. "You could have given me a heart attack!"

"Well…as far as I am concerned, Harry, you need the practice!" Sirius flicked his wand, and the machine across the room repaired itself. Then he smiled gently. "Don't worry. We'll start slow."

Harry nodded and readied himself. He trusted Sirius to know what he was doing when training him. For Harry, Sirius was not only a fatherly figure, a brother, a friend, but he was also a teacher and a mentor. In fact, if Sirius hadn't become an Auror after school, he would have made a very good teacher who knew his subject and how to teach it to others – not like Lockhart. His adventurous and humorous personality would have been able to control a classroom since he would keep the students' attention and teach through experience rather than through books – unlike Professor Binns. And, like Professor McGonagall and Snape (who Harry recognized would've also made a brilliant teacher if he didn't hate everyone who wasn't in his House), Sirius would've hold very high expectations for the students.

Sirius flicked his wand, and the machine began to spit rocks at Harry, much slower than it did for Sirius. Already having a plan in mind, he cried out, "_Engorgio! __Arresto__ Momentum!__"_ The first rock enlarged and stopped moving in midair, acting as a shield for Harry as the rocks behind it bounced off it. Then, coming behind the rock, Harry pointed his wand at the machine and yelled, "_Reducto!_"

The object burst into smithereens, and Sirius clapped. "Well done, Harry! That was a very good display of magic. But don't forget what I said about not giving away to your opponents your secrets," he said.

"Nonverbal magic," Harry groaned. He hated doing nonverbal magic. Saying the words out loud made it much easier to focus. But who was he to argue?

"That's right," Sirius said, nodding. "You might not like it, but it is your best weapon against your opponent – their lack of knowledge. If they don't know the nature of your spells, they can't defend themselves against them."

Harry sighed. "I guess practice makes perfect?"

"Of course. Also, Harry, understand that this exercise is not meant for you to figure out a way to destroy your opponent. Trust me when I say that your opponent won't be an inanimate object that you can just blow apart like that. If you're facing a second year, maybe. However, in most cases, that won't happen. In addition, each spell cast at you will be different and none of them can be used as a shield. This exercise was meant for you to hone your reflexes, which won't happen if you just destroy everything with one blow. You will need to master this exercise before going onto the next one." Sirius glanced at his watch and gave a sad shake of his head. "Time sure flies by quickly. It's already ten thirty. Did you have all your stuff packed?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah…" He motioned his hand towards the door, where his trunk was. Then he looked up into Sirius's eyes. They both stood there, staring at each other before Harry launched himself into Sirius's arms, tightly wrapping his arms around the man's middle. "I promise I'll find Pettigrew, Sirius," he vowed as Sirius's arms wrapped themselves around him. "I promise I'll find that rat and make you a free man!"

…

Harry sat down in a compartment with Hermione, who was talking to Ginny while Ron sat looking slightly awkward on the opposite side next to Harry. Harry noticed that Hermione was petting what looked like a large cat with spotted fur, large ears, and a tail like a lion's. It was a Kneazle – his Christmas present to her. It was a pain getting licenses for both of them, but he liked the cat-like creature. It was intelligent and very clever, bonding quite nicely with Hermione, who was overjoyed at owning a magical pet. Smiling at the scene, he turned to Ron. "Just curious, Ron, but don't you normally sit with Dean and Seamus?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably as his ears turned as red as his hair. "Well, Ginny wanted to sit with you guys…"

"And he decided to follow me around, making sure I'm not going to be attacked by another Basilisk," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "As if he stood a chance if that actually happened." Her eyes gleamed as she said that, her gaze on Harry, as if to say, _But__ you__ could,__ right, __Harry?_

Harry, completely missing her implications, only shrugged, accepting her explanation without questioning it, and glanced at the _Daily__ Prophet_ in Ron's hands. His eyes narrowed at the picture of Sirius on its cover. The picture made Sirius appear like a psychotic murderer. "What rubbish…" he muttered and opened up his own copy, ignoring Sirius's wanted picture and turning to the page that described a recent Quidditch match between England and Ireland. The next match the Gryffindors were going to have was with Hufflepuff…

"Hey, Harry…"

"Yeah?" Harry replied. He took out a quill and tried to do the crossword puzzle.

"You know that Black worked for You-Know-Who, right? What if he comes after you at Hogwarts?" Ron asked worriedly. "How can you be so calm?"

"First of all, no, I didn't know he worked for Voldemort (Ron winces). To answer your second question, I _know_ he wouldn't come after me at Hogwarts. That would answer your third question," Harry replied calmly as he wrote 'hippogriff' for one of the answers. "By the way, did we get a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" he asked, quickly changing the topic.

"We don't know. I hope they were able to find a teacher, though. It wouldn't be good not to have a semester of Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione replied.

"That's true," Harry agreed. "But then again, not many people are willing to take up the post. I mean, I heard no DADA teacher has lasted for more than a year. Lockhart actually lasted only a half. Does anyone know if we get a prize for completing this?" he asked, holding up his half-finished puzzle with a questioning look on his face.

Ginny giggled at the expression on his face. It wasn't often that Harry was confused or don't know about something, but when he was, he could be very cute, at least to her. In one hand, he was holding the crossword puzzle up for them all to see. The other hand was on the back of his head, ruffling his hair in an almost self-conscious manner…

However, Ron, Harry, and Hermione themselves were completely void of similar feelings. Ron simply replied, "Yeah, you just send it to the _Daily __Prophet_ office in Diagon Alley by Owl Post. Then they'll send you a prize – usually around five galleons or something. Those crosswords are freakishly hard though. None in my family have solved even one."

"They are difficult," Harry admitted. "Although this one feels as if it's easier than the others. I tried doing all the older ones, but they're too hard. This one is promising, so maybe I'd get a prize for completing it. Exciting, isn't it?" His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. After a while, he smiled and leaned back in his seat with a satisfied expression on his face. He rolled up his puzzle and handed it to Hedwig, who flew out of the window. He was oblivious to the looks his friends sent him, which all seemed to say – "He's an…odd one." He pulled out a Transfiguration book and began to read and annotate it.

"Harry, do you do this often?" Ron asked, gaping at the fact that Harry was _reading_.

"Just because you don't love learning doesn't mean everyone else doesn't," Hermione told him, rolling her eyes. "Harry is especially talented and interested in Transfiguration. Maybe that's why Professor McGonagall simply adores him," she added suggestively, shooting a slightly envious look in Harry's direction, "while she's completely exasperated with you, Ronald."

Ron only looked confused. "What are you talking about? All she does in class is criticizing him for the smallest mistakes! Like that one time when he transfigured a cup into a parrot instead of an owl. She told the entire class that all they have to do is transfigure it into a type of bird – not a specific bird! She seemed to really dislike him…So does Snape – he dislikes everyone who's not in Slytherin, but he really cracks down on Harry. Remember when he threatened to give him a month's worth of detention for not sufficiently cleaning the rim of cauldron."

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "You're completely clueless, aren't you? Why do you think they do that? Because they have higher expectations for him! Professor McGonagall may crack down harder on him than everyone else, but did you notice that she smiles at him more than anyone else, too? She wanted him to be able to control his Transfigurations – which is really difficult, but it's worth it really in the end. Remember at the end of that class period when he transfigured the cup into a dove for her?"

Ron shrugged. "How do you expect me to remember all this?"

"Because, Ron, since then, anyone who goes into her office would see the dove on a perch and the window open for it to come and go. Professor McGonagall simply adores Harry! And when you think about it, even Snape favors him in his own way. He hasn't taken any points from Gryffindor all year for any of his mistakes! He threatens him with detention, but that's null and void since Harry spends every evening with him anyway, taking private lessons from him!"

"Doesn't Harry have better things to do?" Ron asked, horrified. "And, bloody hell, if the teachers treat their favorites like that – by criticizing and threatening them, I hope I never get on their good side!"

"Well, considering they do that to you anyway, Ron, you shouldn't have to worry. But the big difference between you and Harry when it comes to academics and teachers is that he actually understands why criticism is good because he loves learning! And it isn't all criticism! When he manages to do something really difficult, they do praise him!" Hermione saw out of the corner of her eye that Harry was turning redder by the second. She had trouble stifling her laughter.

"No way! Snape doesn't praise anyone!"

"Then how do you explain him suggesting that Harry give some of his potions to Madam Pomfrey if she needs them?"

Ginny interrupted their "conversation" and said in a small voice, "Guys…haven't you noticed…we can see our own breaths…and the train stopped…"

Hermione and Ron stopped bickering just as the lights flickered off. Hermione shivered and wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. It was freezing.

Harry put his book down, took out his wand, and attempted to cast a warming charm, but although it warmed up the compartment for a few seconds, the air quickly returned to its cold original temperature. Afterwards, he only said in a slightly shaky voice, "Either I completely forgot how to do a warming charm or something is preventing this charm from taking effect." Noticing that Hermione and Ginny were shivering due to having thinner cloaks than he did, he took off his own winter cloak and draped it over Hermione's and Ginny's shoulders despite their protests. Sitting back down in his seat, he continued to read, trying to focus on the words rather than the temperature, which was dropping quickly.

"There's something moving outside," Ron said in a shaking voice as he looked outside the window.

Harry's breath was fogging up the glass, but he could tell that Ron was right. There was something moving outside. Hearing the sounds of doors sliding open on the train, he stood up and opened the compartment door slightly, peeking out into the aisle. He felt something familiar…as if he was falling into depression…He froze, seeing a cloaked figure gliding slowly onto the train. He shut the compartment door quickly and locked it, stumbling back into his seat. "Dementors," he breathed, remembering his visit to Azkaban and how it felt before Kingsley and Dawlish casted their Patronuses. So, that's why the warming charm had almost no effect on the temperature in the compartment…

"Dementors? What are they doing here? Aren't they supposed to be in Azkaban?" Hermione hissed fiercely.

"They're supposed to, but I doubt the Ministry has complete control over them even in the best of times anyway. I always said it was brilliant of them to keep Dementors as prison guards," Harry muttered sarcastically, shivering. Then, to his horror, a Dementor stopped outside their compartment. "If anyone knows how to cast a Patronus Charm, now would be a good time to do that," he breathed fearfully, knowing that it was in vain. None of them knew how to cast such an advanced charm. He himself had focused so much on Transfiguration that he had neglected most of the other subject areas except for Potions, being only ahead of his class by a few months. Despite being locked, their compartment door slid open while all of them were frozen in place with terror.

"W-What is that?" Ron squeaked. As the compartment door slid completely open, they had a close up view of the Dementor. Ragged robes fluttered menacingly about it as it loomed over all of them. Glistening, grayish, slimy, scabbed hands reached out towards them. As it breathed, there was a rattling sound as if it was trying to suck out more than just air from the room. The cold no longer felt skin-deep. The coldness seemed to be seeping into the friends' very beings, as if their insides were being frozen.

As the nearest one to the Dementor, Harry was the first to be approached by it – and the one to be affected most strongly…

"_Step aside, you silly girl."_

"_Not Harry, please no don't kill him, take me, kill me instead —_"

"_This is my last warning —_"

"_Not Harry! Please ... have mercy ... Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything..._"

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

_"Goodbye, Harry Potter. Avada Kedavra!"…_

"_Say it, you son of a fucking bitch – you like it when I do this to you. You love it when I play with your body…"_

"_No, please!"_

"_Say it, freak! Say it like you mean it!"_

"_I LIKE IT! I LOVE IT WHEN YOU DO THIS TO ME! Please stop! I beg you…please…I'll do anything…please stop…"_

"_Louder! If you like it, brat, beg for more!"…_

"Harry! Harry! Wake up!"

Harry snapped open his eyes and quickly sat up, rubbing the back of his head, which was aching slightly. "W-What happened?" he muttered, disoriented and covered in cold sweat. His robes were clinging to his skin, and…what happened? Just a few moments ago, he heard his mother's voice and Voldemort's and then, Vernon's…

Ron looked worried as he said, "I don't know, mate. You just fell out of your seat and started having spasms. You were half-begging the Dementor to stop doing whatever it was doing and half-screaming that you like it."

Harry licked his lips and turned away, trying to calm himself. Of course…the Dementor…so that was the true effect of a Dementor. He had read about how they affect humans, but he had never thought that it would feel like _that_…How did his godfather survive? Such vivid memories. And he was screaming. It was a near miss. Ron and Ginny could have found out about his childhood. So far, only Hermione knew about everything he went through, and he preferred it to stay that way. No matter how much he trusted and loved Sirius, he wouldn't want even him to find out…Shaking his head and trying to clear his mind of the memories, he sat down tiredly in his seat and asked dejectedly, "So who saved us?"

"Err," Ron glanced towards the door, and Harry followed his gaze.

A young man was leaning against their compartment door frame. Dressed in shabby clothes, and looking worn and tired, the man regarded Harry with concerned eyes. Harry's eyes widened in recognition and surprise. Remus Lupin… "Mr. Lupin?" he asked weakly, uncertainly. Harry's father had used his wealth to support Lupin for a while, but that must have changed after his death. It was clear that life had not been treating the werewolf kindly.

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Good guess." For a moment, Harry thought he was going to ask him how he knew, but Remus did no such thing. Instead, Lupin took out a bar of chocolate and handed it to Harry. "It's chocolate. Chocolate will help you feel better after an encounter with a Dementor," he said encouragingly.

Harry knew that very well and accepted the candy gratefully, wasting no time in taking several large bites out of the chocolate. Immediately, he felt warmth spread from his head to his toes as the chocolate took effect. "Thank you, Professor," he said, assuming that Remus was their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. If that was so…this was to be their first time having a competent DADA teacher.

"Don't mention it," Remus replied. His eyes were bright as he watched Harry eat all of the chocolate – as if he and Harry were more than just strangers meeting for the first time and coincidentally being a teacher and a student. Then he said suddenly, "I think I'll go talk to the conductor." With that, he left them alone.

Hermione immediately turned to Harry in concern. "Harry, are you sure you're okay?"

Harry nodded and waved her concern away. "I'm fine, Hermione. Don't worry." Then, after assuring her for a while, he turned to stare out the window. The compartment was considerably warmer, and the train was moving again. However, none of that mattered to Harry. He couldn't even interest himself in Transfiguration. Too much had happened in the last few, short minutes. After he absorbed the fact that during the last few years Lupin was living in poverty, his mind inevitably returned to the memories forced upon him by the Dementor.

Harry involuntarily clenched his hand. He was so weak then, allowing Vernon to do all that to him. He gave in, allowing himself to be degraded and humiliated…they were the greatest humiliations of his life, and he hated the idea that they would be made known to the public…And then there was his mother's voice. "_Not Harry! Please ... have mercy ... Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything..._" It was the first time he heard her real voice – one that did not come from a portrait. His mother begging for his life…it was the most painful thing he ever heard. It was worse than hearing his relatives calling him cruel names. His mother had been so desperate to save his life...

So many emotions were running through his mind – embarrassment, grief, fear, confusion, and others…He needed a way to avoid succumbing to the effects of a Dementor again – this time was far too close for comfort, and it was one time too many. He needed to learn the Patronus charm. Perhaps Lupin could teach him. It was too advanced a charm for him to learn it by himself at his current skill level. However, he needed to learn it – he simply needed to. Harry rubbed his temple. He was developing a headache. Harry closed his eyes and tried to sleep, succeeding the minute he settled himself.

While he slept, however, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny weren't too keen on letting his strange behavior go. "What's with him?" Ron asked, confused. "First, he fell off his seat when the Dementor approached him. Then he completely lost consciousness while conscious!"

"Ron, you can be such a dunce. He was reliving his worst memories – Dementors do that to you." Hermione pulled out _A History of Magic_ and began to read.

"Yeah, but none of us fell out of our seats and screamed!"

Ginny smacked Ron's arm. "Seriously, Ron, you can be so emotionally challenged. Hermione, would it be correct if I assume Harry has worse memories than we do?"

Hermione nodded. "Think of it this way, Ron – you didn't have your parents killed by a psychopath when you were barely one." She had a good idea of what other memories played through Harry's mind, but she wasn't about to disclose them without Harry allowing it.

"Could he really remember things that far back?" Ron asked, shocked.

"When you experience something, you never really forget it," Hermione said quietly. "It could be locked away, or it could fade into the background behind more important memories, but it will never just disappear. Even the memory charm can't erase a memory completely. At a terrible price to someone's sanity, you can break through the charm and retrieve the memory. Even though Harry experienced it when he was only one and such a memory would be buried beneath everything else, under the powerful influence of a Dementor, it could be recalled to the surface." Her Kneazle suddenly hissed, causing everyone in the compartment except for Harry to jump.

Ron growled, "Keep that creature under control, will you, Hermione?"

"It's Crookshanks, Ron, and be careful of what you call him. Kneazles are really intelligent. Crookshanks, what's wrong?" Hermione cooed. Suddenly, Crookshanks leapt out of her arms and tackled Scabbers, who had wiggled out from Ron's pocket, searching for candy or other snacks.

"What the hell?" Ron pulled Scabbers out of Crookshanks's reach and gave the cat a hard kick. Scabbers began to squeak and struggle, biting into Ron's hand. He hissed in pain before stuffing the rat back into his pocket. "Stay away from Scabbers!"

"Ron, don't hurt him!" Crookshanks hissed at Ron before Hermione stroked it and picked it up, placing him on her lap. "Crookshanks, don't go around attacking other people's pets!" Crookshanks calmed slightly in Hermione's arms but continued to eye Ron's pocket shrewdly, as if waiting for the right moment to attack.

"Little devil!" Ron growled.

"He's a cat. Of course he'll attack rodents," Hermione said defensively. She brushed her hand through Crookshanks's coat. The Kneazle purred slightly, causing Hermione to smile in spite of the situation.

"Couldn't he wait until we reach the castle? There are plenty of rodents there!"

Before they went into a full scale argument about it, however, a slithering noise drew all of their attention towards the door. Sasha, whom Harry had allowed to go explore the train, had returned, slithering inside, the door having been left opened by Lupin. She stopped in front of Crookshanks, who seemed almost happy to see her. The two creatures, almost equal in intelligence, had become good companions.

"Sasha, you can understand animal speech, right?" Hermione asked, gleefully ("Why doesn't the mad cat attack snakes? It would've been more useful that way!"). "Could you understand what Crookshanks is saying?"

Sasha didn't hear her, already engaging in conversation with Crookshanks. As the conversation went on, Sasha's eyes narrowed before slithering towards Ron, rearing back and then staying motionless as if waiting patiently for him to take out Scabbers.

Ron fearfully covered the pocket with Scabbers in it. "That cat didn't tell you to kill Scabbers, did it? Why Scabbers? He hasn't done anything to either of you guys!"

"Ron, just let Sasha look at Scabbers," Ginny said, staring at the two creatures. "Harry wouldn't buy pets that act irrationally."

"Well, you know, that monstrous cat of Hermione's was acting irrationally! It's mad I tell you! Why did it attack Scabbers?" Ron argued stubbornly.

Ginny snatched Scabbers right out of his pocket, shocking Ron, and held it up for Sasha's inspection. Scabbers squeaked in fear. "See, Sasha? It's just an ordinary rat," she said patiently, knowing Sasha wouldn't attack Scabbers.

There was a silence as Sasha's forked tongue slid in and out several times before her black eyes glittered in triumph. She didn't attack Scabbers. That would cause too much trouble for her and Harry, although nothing would please her more than to have her venom in that rat's veins and the rat itself in her stomach…that traitor who was the cause of her owner's misery! She slithered onto Harry's lap and began to hiss rapidly. Harry blinked sleepily before muttering, _What is it, Sasha?_

_I've found the traitor. _

Harry's eyes snapped open. "What? Where?" he asked loudly, making Ron, Hermione, and Ginny jump in their seats. "Sorry," he said, calming down. _Where, Sasha?_

_Hiding as the Weasley's pet rat all this time. _

Harry widened his eyes and turned to Scabbers. "Can I see Scabbers, Ron?" he asked firmly, his heart beating with anticipation. Could it be that he had finally found the man who betrayed his parents to their deaths and framed his godfather, sending him to more than a decade in Azkaban? After hesitating, Ron gently handed Scabbers over to him. Harry held him up to the light…

"_Sirius, could you show me what Pettigrew looks like in his Animagus form so that I could look out for him?" Harry asked as he and Sirius stood in front of the Pensieve. _

"_It'll be pretty difficult for you to spot him out of a million other rats, Harry. However, I doubt Pettigrew would live in the sewers," Sirius growled furiously. "No, he's probably living with a Wizarding family, being protected and living a life of comfort." He took out his wand and pulled out a silvery strand of his memory from his temple, dropping it into the Pensieve. _

"_I'll make sure to check then," Harry assured him. "Ready, guys?" He turned to Hedwig and Sasha. They all nodded and entered the Pensieve. Hedwig and Sasha, as an owl and a snake respectively, hunt rats on a daily basis and would be able to search for Pettigrew among the wild rats. They were also more observant on a smaller scale…_

Harry glared at the rat in his hand before Ron snatched it away from him protectively. How could he have forgotten that Ron owned a rat? Sasha raised herself threateningly while Crookshanks hissed.

"What is wrong with all of you?" Ron asked fearfully. "Hermione, tell them to keep away from Scabbers!"

"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione asked, grabbing his arm.

"That's Pettigrew!" Harry whispered fiercely.

Hermione widened her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. He has a toe missing. Pettigrew cut off his finger to frame Sirius. Besides, even if one can make an excuse that he lost his toe in a fight with another rat, he has that bald spot on his head that is his souvenir from his human form."

"So what are you going to do?"

Harry eyed Scabbers, who seemed to have thinned somewhat since the last time he saw him. "I want to do this with as little fuss as possible – that would present him with fewer opportunities to escape. Can you cast an unbreakable charm on a jar or something while I take care of 'Scabbers'?" With a nod from Hermione, Harry took out his wand and pointed it at the rat. The only reaction he allowed Ron to have was an expression of shock and horror before he casted the Stunning Spell nonverbally, having done so often enough with Sirius training him.

"What did you do to Scabbers?" Ron cried, shaking the rat. "Wake up, Scabbers! You can't have died!"

"Calm down, Ron," Harry muttered exasperatedly. "I didn't kill him." With a flick of his wand and a flash of light, all three of Harry's companions had a glimpse of just how talented and powerful Harry was as a Transfiguration master. Lying on the floor was a stunned man, knocked off Ron's lap in his shock. Chubby with watery eyes, he had an expression of horror and shock on his face – his feelings when he saw Harry pointing his wand at him.

"Bloody hell…" Ron gaped. "What is that?"

Harry glanced at the Kneazle in Hermione's arms and said fondly, "A Kneazle is a very intelligent creature. Crookshanks here apparently suspected Scabbers the moment he saw him." He transfigured Pettigrew back into a rat and took the jar from Hermione, dropping the rat into the jar and sealing it, leaving a hole on the lid for air. "Well, now that he's a mindless rat, I won't need to worry about him trying something clever…" Then he leaned back onto his seat with a satisfied, content expression on his face. His previous feelings of fatigue were gone as he thought about how Sirius was going to be a free man…

"Harry, could you give some explanation?" Ginny asked when it became apparent that Harry was not going to explain anything unless he was prompted to do so.

Harry laughed lightheartedly, his spirits soaring. "Well, you see, I transformed a man into a rat and stuffed him into a jar. What explanation is needed?" he teased her and Ron while Hermione just smirked, stroking Crookshanks absentmindedly. "Only joking. You will love this story, even if it's kind of long…" With that, he began to tell his story. And indeed they did enjoy it. Ginny gasped at exactly the right places while Ron listened with his mouth opening and closing like a fish, which Harry thought was pretty funny.

"Woah," Ron said, breathlessly. "So what are you going to do now with Pettigrew? I mean, he betrayed your parents to You-Know-Who!"

Harry's heart beat fast with apprehension and excitement. "Show him to Dumbledore, and then clear Sirius's name, of course!" He placed the jar into his robe pocket. Harry smiled – he couldn't believe it…he had finally found Pettigrew.

Ginny stared at Harry, awestruck. She had thought he was brilliant for saving her three weeks ago, but now, perhaps the other rumors she heard about him were true, too. He battled a mountain troll and saved Hermione's life last year. He became the Keeper of the Sorcerer's Stone after protecting it from Quirrell. Now, he's clearing the name of a person thought to be a mass murderer for twelve years! She closed her eyes. And his strong arms around her, supporting her as they left the Chamber of Secrets…it would be a dream come true if they get married! He was such a good person…and she felt so safe with him. What girl wouldn't want that kind of boy? One she could trust to go down to virtual hell for her…

As the train slowed down, they all stood up and grabbed their luggage, Harry making sure that Pettigrew was secured…

**Please review! I would like to know if there are any plot holes in advance so that I could fix them as early as possible.**


	18. The Youngest Marauder

**The Youngest Marauder**

**Some people asked me why Daphne hasn't appeared in at least glimpses yet. No, this has nothing to do with whether she will be a likely candidate for Harry or not. It is simply too early for her to appear. Gryffindors and Slytherins tend to stay away from each other unless they're about to start a fight, so I doubt Harry would notice her even if she bumped into him on the way to Potions.**

**Also, take note, that this is still Harry's second year. I decided to make the events happen a little earlier so that I could include larger events that didn't happen in the canon. **

**So, some people have been warning me about my story becoming too pacifistic. Well, I wasn't planning my story that way...Harry wasn't meant to be a pacifist. In fact, he believes in causing fights if there was going to be good coming out of them. However, he is very opposed to otherwise, which was why he didn't curse Draco, for example (Although of course, Draco won't be getting away that easily…). **

**Also, thank you for sticking with me, guys. I really was busy the last few weeks, so I apologize if any of you thought I had abandoned the story.  
><strong>

"So, I guess we'll just have to wait until the Ministry responds," Harry said, finishing telling his story to his friends. He had just went to Dumbledore's office, waited outside of it for about ten minutes because the bloody gargoyle won't let him in without the flipping password, and explained everything to the Headmaster after he arrived to let him inside. He had then showed him Pettigrew, who was then kept in Dumbledore's office for safekeeping while the Headmaster went to request a trial for Sirius.

As they entered the Great Hall for dinner, Harry noticed that some of the Slytherins were snickering at him.

"Hey, Potter, I heard you fainted on the train," Malfoy said, turning around in his seat. Seeing the look on Harry's face, he sneered. "Wait, seriously? You fainted? Like a girl?" He faked a faint, swooning backwards into Goyle's arms.

Harry shook his head and turned back to his food.

Hermione smiled and piled some potatoes on his plate. It was just like Harry to be able to control himself when others insult, ridicule, or taunt him. Direct attacks won't earn a very strong response. Only when he was called to defend the honor of those he cared about would he actually show anger. However, she could only groan when Ron bristled across from her.

"Harry, really, can't you just turn that git into a frog or something? I mean, you're really good at Transfiguration and all, so you must know a spell that would shut his fat mouth up…" Ron muttered furiously underneath his breath.

"Oh, I'm sure he does, Ron, but he's more in control of himself than you are, obviously," Hermione said haughtily.

Harry rolled his eyes and began to eat, tuning out Hermione and Ron and their argument. Oh well, at least they're having fun…Harry's mind drifted back to Sirius. It was only a few hours, but he's already starting to miss Sirius. Suddenly, a letter dropped right in front of his as Hedwig swooped down. A letter at dinner? Must be important…

_Harry,_

_I have a challenge for you, just to make your life at Hogwarts more productive and fun…You see, when your father, me, Remus, and Pettigrew were in school, we created this map of Hogwarts, complete with secret tunnels and all. We were known as the Marauders and the map was known as the Marauder's Map. Then Filch nicked it from us and probably still has it in his office. Do me a favor and get it back. You can keep it._

_Your godfather,_

_Padfoot_

_P.S. It looks like a blank piece of parchment until you point your wand at it and say, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."_

It definitely caught Harry's interest. Secret passageways and tunnels? Harry grinned with excitement, but then when he saw Filch out of the corner of his eye, he frowned. How was he supposed to sneak into Filch's office and grab the map? It was about as safe as tickling a sleeping dragon.

Hermione and Ron leaned over his shoulder to read Sirius's letter. Hermione gasped, "That's brilliant!"

"If Fred and George got wind of this, they'd go nuts," Ron muttered in awe. "You have such a cool godfather and dad…wait, Lupin was with them?" He looked up at the teacher's table. "No way – he doesn't seem fit enough to teach, let alone exploring secret passageways!"

"Yeah, but now, how the heck am I supposed to go into Filch's office and get the map?" Harry asked.

"Well, you could land yourself in detention somehow…" Ron suggested.

"Harry, don't!" Hermione protested. "Harry has a near flawless reputation in the minds of the teachers! Even when he breaks rules, it's a good rule-breaking!"

"That would be Plan B AKA our last resort," Harry agreed. He personally liked his relationship with his teachers and he would prefer to keep it that way. "Our first plan should be sneaking into his office and then grab it off his desk."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Harry, that's even worse than your original plan!"

"Not really. Not if we have distractions to keep him away from his office while I rummage around his desk a bit…" Harry saw the look in Hermione's eyes and said, "C'mon, Hermione, he shouldn't have taken the map anyway! It wasn't his to take. Sure it's a bit invasive, but I'm just taking back what should have belonged to me."

"I don't know, Harry, it is an invasion of privacy…"

"I agree with Harry. Filch shouldn't have taken the map, which is like invading their privacy anyway. I mean, Sirius said it looked like a blank map unless you utter some magic words, so it should've appeared harmless. Filch probably just took it just because he can and he hates Harry's dad and friends, like he hates every student in the school," Ron said, siding with Harry. "Now, Harry's just getting back what should have belonged to him in the first place."

Hermione still looked hesitant until finally agreeing, "Oh, all right…" She then looked directly at Harry and asked, "So how are we supposed to distract him and get him to stay out of his office without getting caught ourselves?"

Harry shrugged. "Oh, we have many resources at our disposal. I personally feel slightly bad for Filch because it's always a war between him and the students, and the students usually win. But can you guys imagine a nice Filch? If he just weren't so nasty all the time, maybe unfortunate things wouldn't always happen to him."

The next day, after class, Ron made a deal with Peeves – if he gave him the dungbombs that Harry had ordered earlier in the year, Peeves would drop them two corridors down from Filch's office, which would give Harry plenty of time to rummage through Filch's desk and find the map.

While Ron was sealing the deal with Peeves, Harry was waiting outside Filch's office under the invisibility cloak with Hermione, who would be keeping a lookout for Filch while Harry's searching through Filch's office. Truth be told, Harry did feel slightly guilty about doing this, but it was an adventure, taking back the Marauder's Map! Not only was it taking back what belonged to Sirius and him in the first place, but it was also something to do besides homework and work.

Hearing the dungbombs going off and seeing Filch running down the corridors, Harry snuck inside the caretaker's office. Seeing the windowless, dreary room that smelled slightly of fried fish, he could almost understand why the man was so spiteful – he'd be depressed, too, if he worked in this…he couldn't even call it an office. There were filing cabinets everywhere and, as Harry quickly found out, they contained disciplinary records. "Filch needs a life…" Harry muttered to himself. "But where could the Map be? It can't be in one of these cabinets. Filch seemed too organized – way too organized – to just leave it with these."

Then he noticed that one of the cabinets was marked "_Confiscated and Highly Dangerous."_ It was the only cabinet that was named differently than "_Disciplinary Records."_ "Well, it doesn't hurt to check," he muttered, knowing that if the map was anywhere within this room, it would be here. He would bet anything that the cabinet was filled with prank items that Filch just plain hated. After all, what dangerous objects could students possibly bring into Hogwarts that Filch can detect and Dumbledore can't? Opening the cabinet, his face split into a grin. The cabinet was filled to the brim with all sorts of goods. Some of them he recognized were from prank shops, but there were other mysterious items that he was very tempted to take a look at.

"Harry, he's coming back!" Hermione hissed through the door.

"'kay, thanks. Go before he sees you!" Harry put on the invisibility cloak and quickly pushed everything back the way it was before Filch left. When Filch slammed open the door and walked in, Harry never saw him looking so furious. His face was red, and he couldn't even speak. The only thing that came out of his mouth was a gargle of angry sounds.

Filch kicked his desk out of anger before hopping on one foot, cursing. Then he raged back and forth, growling, "A hundred and fifty dungbombs! I knew I signed up for a caretaker's job, but I will not settle for this any longer, Headmaster! Peeves has to leave!" With that, he stormed out of his office – no doubt to go to Dumbledore's office – which was far away and gave plenty of time for Harry to have fun…

Harry shook off the guilt and continued to rummage through the cabinet. He had ordered a supply of dungbombs on the suggestion of Sirius, and he had worked with Fred and George on improving them. The ones Peeves dropped were the improved version.

However, his guilt dissipated when he realized the treasure trove he had stumbled upon. The stuff he had found – some of them dated all the way back to when Filch started the job. Realizing that, Harry conjured up a pouch and casted an enlargement charm on it. Then he began taking everything that took a hold of his interest and that belonged to Hogwarts graduates – everything from a strange vile containing a single white hair (Harry had a suspicion that it was unicorn hair, but he could be wrong) to a small cage of magical creatures models (he could see why Filch thought they were dangerous – the basilisk model tried to bite him every time he took hold of the cage until he knocked it unconscious with his wand). After he got everything, Harry was sorely disappointed when he couldn't find the Marauder's Map. It was obviously not there.

Harry was about to leave when he noticed the highly polished chain and manacles hanging behind Filch's desk. He shivered and ran out. He was never coming back in there if he could help it.

…

"Now what, Harry?" Ron asked as they sat around the common room fireplace.

Harry shrugged, watching the dragon model fly around the mountainous habitat he had built for it. "I don't know," he said dully. He turned disinterested eyes to Fred and George, who were laughing when a first-year fell for one of their pranks.

"Maybe you should just tell Sirius it isn't there, Harry," Hermione suggested.

"Yeah, I'll tell him that after I find the map," Harry replied. Where could the map possibly be? "Really, who could have taken the map?"

"Well, who do we know knows more about secret passageways than anyone else?" Hermione asked.

"Filch," Harry muttered. "He pops out of nowhere so he must know shortcuts around the castle and stuff." He widened his eyes before making a horrified face. "You can't be suggesting that he knows how to work the map…"

"Ask Sirius, then," Hermione urged.

Harry nodded, and when the common room emptied out later at night, he pulled out a bag of floo powder and threw it into the fireplace, sticking his head inside and muttering, "Potter Manor." When he stuck his head in, he saw Holly cleaning the living room. "Holly!"

The elf jumped and turned around. "Master Harry, sir, you scared Holly!"

Harry chuckled before asking, "Could I talk to Sirius?"

"Yes, sir, Holly will get Master Black for you!"

Several minutes later, Sirius sat down in front of the fire and asked, "What is it, Harry? Have you found the map?"

"Er, no, but I'm just wondering if Filch knows how to use the map…"

Sirius snorted. "That old geezer? He can't open the map!"

"But what if by luck, he knows the words…?"

Sirius shook his head. "No, Harry, I don't mean that he couldn't open the map because he doesn't know the words – I meant that he literally can't open the map – it's impossible for him. He's a squib, and you need a wand in order for the map to appear."

…

"Well, that settles it. Someone took the map," Harry said during Transfiguration the next day. He lazily flicked his wand and wordlessly transfigured the small book in front of him into a mouse, earning him a smile from McGonagall. "Who else do we know knows a lot about secret passageways?"

"Fred and George – they know more passageways than anyone else – more than Filch, too, now that I thought about it," Ron said, jabbing his wand at the book in front of his and ending up turning it into a half rat, which tried to scurry around while dragging the book that composed half of its body.

Hermione finished the transformation for him before saying, "Ron, you're supposed to turn it into a mouse."

"What's the difference? A rat or a mouse – they're both rodents!"

Harry rolled his eyes, and later that night, he approached Fred and George. He knew they'd say 'no,' but perhaps he could strike a deal with him? "Hey, Fred, George!"

"Harry, just the boy I wanted to talk to," Fred said, holding out some blue biscuits. "We need someone to test this product on, and so, if you have some time to spare, open your mouth…"

"Not really," Harry said quickly. The blue biscuits were too…exotic looking for his tastes. "I was just about to ask you guys if you know anything about what's known as the Marauder's Map."

George choked on his pumpkin juice. "How did you know about that?" He asked suspiciously.

"Padfoot told me," Harry said, grinning.

Fred gaped, but George said, "Wait, how did you know about Padfoot?"

"He's my godfather."

"He's lying," Fred told George. Then he turned to Harry and held out a worn out, blank sheet of parchment. It was the Marauder's Map. Fred and George both wore identical mischievous grins on their faces. "This is the Marauder's Map, and we suppose you want it?"

Harry nodded, confused. He was so sure they would refuse…

"Well, you can't have it…" Fred said, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning smugly at Harry.

Harry blinked, his mouth open in surprise.

"…unless you can successfully prank us," George finished.

Harry gaped. "You expect me to prank you?"

"Nope, but that's why we proposed the challenge," Fred said. "We don't expect you to prank us, so that means you won't get the map." Seeing the determination in Harry's eyes before he simply left, Fred turned to George, "You think it was a good idea to propose the challenge? We might get it really badly."

George looked at his brother before snorting, "Nah. Not a chance. Although I guess he could have some potential under that innocent façade – if he was related to a Marauder that is…"

…

Harry had to admit it to himself – he wasn't the most mischievous at Hogwarts. However, right now, he really wanted the Marauder's Map. Flipping through several books and pulling together all the knowledge he had acquired from his lessons with Flamel and his evening sessions with Snape, he began to brew Polyjuice potion. It was a very delicately planned prank, and he was careful in both its planning and execution. He studied both twins' habits, and he tried every way he thought possible to change his voice to match the twins' voices.

On the day he planned to follow through with his prank, he enlisted the help of Hermione…

Hermione approached the twins and said, "Fred? George?" She was a good actor, having rehearsed with Harry for such a long time. Her voice was proud, almost haughty, as it should be.

Both twins turned to her before one of them gave her a slight joking bow and asked her, grinning, "How can we simpletons help the genius of Gryffindor?"

Hermione pretended to take a deep breath before saying haughtily, "I need help with Transfiguration, and you guys are good at it – if your prank items and jokes are anything to go by."

Both the twins gasped, and one of them, who had been taking a sip of pumpkin juice, choked before saying to his twin, "Is this our dream coming true? The Hermione Granger is actually asking us to aid her in academic pursuits?"

"I think it is, bro! Although, Hermione, do know that life isn't always about academics. I mean, sure, people say they determine your standing in life and your worth as a human being, but that really isn't true," he said in a lecturing voice.

Hermione stomped her foot. "Couldn't you two be serious for once?"

"Oh, calm down, Hermione. What do you need help with?" one of the twins asked.

Hermione acted as if she was arguing with herself before saying quietly, "This is kind of embarrassing, so I'd prefer it if only one of you guys come. Either Fred or George, I really don't care which."

The twins looked at each other and then shrugged. "You go, _Fred_. I'll just stay here and test out more of our products on the first years," George said, nudging Fred and winking.

Fred nodded, grinning. "Alright, _George_, I'll make this quick." With that he followed Hermione into the empty common room before he suddenly found himself tied up with ropes by a well placed spell by Harry, who grinned smugly before taking the shocked twin's wand.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Fred asked, confused.

Satisfied that Fred wouldn't be going anywhere, Harry replied calmly, "I'm simply getting the Marauder's Map from you." He reached down to pluck several hairs from Fred's head before dropping them into his premade Polyjuice potion. "Now like any stereotypical evil villain, I'm going to reveal my plan, except without the weird evil laugh. This is Polyjuice potion, which is all the explanation I think you'll need." Harry quickly chugged down the disgusting fluid before hunching over a nearby table, gagging. However, his transformation was immediate. Sprouting red hair and gaining height, he soon resembled the Weasley twins. Smiling despite the painful transformation, he turned to Hermione. "Which twin is this again?"

"He's Fred, and good luck, Harry," Hermione replied.

Harry left the common rooms and approached George. "Hey, George, you know what we should do today?" Harry asked, having modified his voice magically to match Fred's.

Something flashed in George's eyes before he asked cheerfully, "What?"

"We should pull a prank on Snape," Harry said mischievously. "Maybe charm the board so that it always rearranges whatever he writes on it into insults or something."

George's face took on a look of horror. "Okay, I agree we should prank Snape, but that was the lamest idea for a prank ever. How about this? I come up with a plan on the way, and you just go along with it?"

"Sounds good." With that, both of them snuck into Snape's empty classroom. George took out the Marauder's Map and pointed his wand at it, saying, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Harry's eyes opened wide as ink spread out from the tip of the wand like a spider's web. So this was the masterpiece and the epitome of the Marauders' work. So beautiful…so clever…so brilliant…Harry felt a slight sinking feeling in his stomach. Could he ever live up to such talent?

"Alright, Snape's at a teachers' meeting so we won't have to worry about him for a while, Harry," George said.

Harry nodded while planning his next moves carefully. George had to turn his back to him, and then that would be all that was needed. "That's good…" Harry froze, his eyes wide. How did - ? He looked up to see George smirking. "How did you know?"

George's laughter made it hard for Harry to make out his next words, "I'm not George."

"What?" Harry tilted his head, confused.

"I'm not George," George said simply. "I guess you set Hermione up to separate us? Did you ever count on us to switch names in our conversation with her? We tend to do that. We did it by chance, but because of that, it revealed the prank. And by the way, the Marauder's Map reveals people under polyjuice potion, so that confirmed my suspicions. So, now that it's revealed, mind telling me where the real George is?"

Harry, with great disappointment, led Fred to the Gryffindor common room, where his twin was still tied up on the couch. Harry released him.

"It was a good try, Harry, so don't be disappointed. It takes a while until you become good at pranking," Fred said when he saw the look on Harry's face.

"You have no idea how many times Fred and I messed up when we began pranking. If it makes you feel any better, we the greatest pranksters at Hogwarts, second only to the Marauders, give our compliments to you on the creativity of the planning and your skill in brewing the polyjuice potion," George said, almost formally.

"And so, for such effort, we present the Marauder's Map to you, who represent the next generation of pranksters," Fred said, equally formally, holding out the piece of parchment.

Harry widened his eyes. "What? But you said I had to successfully prank you first…"

George laughed. "Really, Harry? We were planning to give it to you ever since you asked us, even if you don't succeed. We already memorized the map, so we don't need it any more." He grinned. "We just wanted to see where you stand as a prankster."

Harry gaped. "So all this time…?"

"Yep, we were only waiting for you to try to prank us. We knew you wouldn't succeed, but still, think of it as a legacy of pranksters." Fred handed the stunned Harry the Marauder's Map. "Well, we'll see you later, Harry. Have fun with the Map, and I mean, _really _have fun with it." He winked before leaving through the portrait hole with George.

…

Indeed, Harry had the most fun with the Marauder's Map. Sirius told him how to add places he discovered onto the Map, and ever since, Harry considered himself a Marauder. Late at night, Harry would sneak out of bed and explore the castle, eager to discover new places and secret passageways. Hermione valued her sleep too much, and Ron usually had to stay up to do work because of his tendency to procrastinate, so Harry usually went on his nightly escapades by himself since he was used to sleeping little and usually finished his homework at the first opportunity. However, he loved it – the adventures were his breaks from his humdrum life as a student. In addition, there's the thrill of having a second, secret life.

**I hope you guys enjoyed this lighter chapter. It's just a break from the emotional streak in the chapters I have been writing. Please review!**


	19. Harry's Patronus

**Harry's Patronus**

**Here's a Christmas present for everybody! **

Hedwig swept down into the Great Hall and landed on Harry's arm, holding out her leg with the _Daily Prophet_ attached to it. Harry relieved her of her mail and fed her some owl treats. Tickling her playfully a bit, he then raised his arm, and she flew away. Hermione and Ron looked up from their plates, and Hermione leaned over Harry's shoulder to read the _Daily Prophet_. Harry unfolded the _Daily Prophet_. On the very first page, it showed the title: _Pettigrew Found! Sirius Black Innocent? _He continued to read and said out loud, "Sirius's trial is on the Saturday before Easter vacation." All around him, Harry heard people whispering…

"Black innocent? Are they mad? Mass murder witnessed by crowds of people, and they're trying to prove him innocent?"

"Maybe he was framed," Hermione suggested slyly. "Maybe by Pettigrew himself. You know, he did fake his own death."

"How could he be framed? I don't know about Pettigrew – maybe he was just lucky to avoid that blast from Black, but I heard that Black was one of the most powerful wizards before the fall of You-Know-Who!"

Harry stood up to leave the table. If he didn't, he might enter a big argument to defend his godfather, which would probably not result in anything good. He'll defend Sirius's honor in court – where it really mattered. He'll make sure his name was cleared. "I'll see you guys later," he said to Hermione and Ron, who was stuffing his mouth with chicken. Shaking his head at Ron's table manners, Harry left the Great Hall and went on a stroll along the edges of the Forbidden Forest. He had a feeling Dumbledore had to go through some lengths for the Ministry to consent to giving Sirius a trial. Of course, being thickheaded as he was, Cornelius Fudge refused to remove the Dementors from the school, the Dementors that were supposed to capture Sirius and deliver him the Dementor's Kiss, even though Sirius was put on hold for a trial. _Sasha, are you there?_

His snake familiar slid into view from the forest. Her jaws were holding what seemed to be a large egg. Swallowing it whole, she slithered towards Harry. _How did your meeting with Remus go?_

_Oh, it was very good actually. We talked about why he didn't allow me to face the boggart. Then he consented to teaching me the Patronus Charm. _Earlier that day, Harry and Lupin had a talk in Lupin's office, and Harry had questioned why he didn't allow him to face the boggart. The discussion led to the Dementor and to Harry's request for him to teach him the Patronus Charm, which Lupin had agreed to. _The Ministry had finally agreed to give Sirius a trial. _

_Well, that's good. He has been denied one for so long. I don't understand how they could simply allow him to be put into Azkaban without a trial! Do they not have a heart? _Sasha slithered alongside Harry, both going around the Black Lake.

Harry thought about it for a while. _I wonder how many others have been put into Azkaban the same way. I suppose it has to do with how people felt during the last Wizarding War. Everyone was afraid. _

_Fear does that to people. _Sasha stopped and turned to him. _That's why, I think, that if there is anyone in this world who could face evil without becoming tainted in the process and still succeed, it would be you._

_What?_

_You have fear, but you fight it, your willpower overcoming it. Fear clouds people's moral compasses, stopping them from doing what is right if what is right puts them at risk. On the other hand, when you are afraid, you focus on others, understanding how your actions and choices could affect them and realizing what is at stake. Your fear is great, and yet, your love is greater. _

Harry smiled. _Those words make me sound much cooler than I really am._

Sasha didn't respond.

They continued along the edge of the Lake before Harry stopped, his eyes wide in surprise. Farther up, he saw the most amazing sight. There was the oddest girl he had ever met. Long, straggly, blonde hair reached her waist, and she was wearing the strangest clothing. Earrings made out of what he believed to be radishes hung from her earlobes. She wasn't wearing any shoes, and her clothes were composed of bright colors that Harry would personally never wear to save his life. She had an expression of permanent surprise on her face, which was probably due to her eyes.

However, her appearance wasn't what caused him to stop walking. It was the fact that she was feeding a baby Thestral. Usually, no one does that kind of thing unless she's not afraid of being labeled as crazy and lunatic, although Harry had done it loads of times.

The girl petted the adult Thestral – the mother - on the nose and smiled before skipping back to the castle.

There was a silence as Harry felt his heart warmed at the sight. _Sometimes, Sasha…Sometimes, I felt as though there are not enough of those people in this world…_

_So true. _Sasha turned to face him. _As I have said before, fear stops people from experiencing many good things as well as finding ways to face their fears. _

Harry approached the Thestral that the girl had petted and rubbed it under the chin. It let out an almost purring sound, and he grinned at its obvious enjoyment. He loved animals, and he was proud to say he was generally very good in dealing with them. "You really can't judge a book by its cover, can you?" he whispered soothingly to the winged horse, staring deep into its white, glittering eyes. Then, when he saw it spread its wings as if to take flight, nudging him gently, he climbed onto its back, feeling his heart thumping quickly with anticipation. He had never ridden a Thestral before. However, by the time they were in the air, he could only let out a cry of exhilaration. Flying, no matter what form, never fails to give him enjoyment. The wind blew his hair back, revealing his scar, but there was no one around to gawk at him. His robes billowed behind him, except there was no stress of trying to win a Quidditch match. The baby Thestral flew right next to them.

The Thestral flew over the Black Lake, and Harry petted its neck. His legs were starting to ache a bit from sitting on the horse's bony back, but the experience was well worth it. Even though he had ridden flying horses before, there was something special about this one ride. With that, he whispered to the Thestral, "You're really different from the other horses, and yet, in some ways, you're the same…" No one was aware of that fact more than Harry did, but this experience drove that belief deeper into him, just like his friendship with Ferdinand, his discovery of the Griffin and the horse, or his study of the Cerberus mother and her cubs.

…

"Perhaps we should stop, Harry. This is such advanced magic. It was foolish of me to let you go through with it…"

"No, Professor, I need to learn how to do this!" Harry said fiercely. He was still as determined as he was several weeks ago when they began these sessions. "What's the point of knowing my fears if I can't fight them?"

Lupin sighed. "Oh, alright. Harry, you must call to mind your happiest memory. Let it fill you up, and focus on it. Then cast your Patronus and it will act as a shield between you and the Dementor."

Harry nodded, trying to call to mind his happiest memory. However, after four failed attempts at the boggart Dementor, all he could think of now was his mother's screams, sometimes his father's, his beatings and rapes at the hands of his uncle, and his bullying by his cousin. Lupin knew better than to pry.

Seeing Harry's struggle, Lupin laid a hand on his shoulder and pulled him to sit in an armchair. "Do not be frustrated, Harry. The Patronus Charm is a very advanced charm. Professor Flitwick has told me much about your talent in charms, and you're doing very well for someone your age. Not to mention that you've probably had worse experiences than most."

Harry looked up at him. "Professor, what is it that I'm doing wrong?" he asked quietly.

"There are two possible reasons, Harry." Lupin poured out a cup of tea and offered it to Harry, who eagerly drank the warm liquid. "One could be that your focus is weak. However, another more probable reason could be that your memory is just not strong enough."

Harry covered his face with his hands. "I've tried several memories already, Professor. But none of them seem to be working."

Lupin sighed. "Your memory must be able to fill you up with happiness, Harry." Seeing Harry still depressed, he sighed again and said, "This is just my theory, but I believe that the most powerful Patronuses aren't the ones created by memories that give a 'shallow' happiness. They are created by the memories that give you happiness to the very core of your being."

"What do you mean, Sir?"

"What I mean, Harry, is that there is a difference between happiness and enjoyment or exhilaration. Tell me, Harry, is there ever a time when you felt so happy that your heart thrills and you felt utterly content?"

Harry stared at him blankly. Truth be told, he couldn't distinguish between the two feelings.

Lupin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, maybe it would help if I give you some examples. 'Shallow' happiness is what you feel when you, say, flew on a broomstick for the first time in your life. Happiness is what you feel when your friends hug you and say they love you. It's a deeper, more profound happiness."

Harry nodded and tried to come up with a memory. "I think I got one, Professor."

Lupin stood up. "Are you sure, Harry? We can stop now, if you want."

Harry shook his head. "I feel like I'm ready for this one."

"If you are sure…ready? One, two, three…"

The hooded figure once again rose into the air…

_Flashback…_

_The egg cracked, and a reptilian head could be seen emerging from the shell. The baby dragon whimpered as it slowly crawled out of its shell. It was so helpless and vulnerable, and Harry has never felt more protective towards one creature. He smiled as he slowly pulled the egg shell pieces off of the dragon. "I think I'll call you Ferdinand," he whispered, wiping the slimy fluid off of Ferdinand with a cloth. _

_With a hand, he lightly brushed the baby dragon on the head, and it leaned into his hand. Chuckling, Harry gently picked him up into his arms. "What a dragon you'll soon be!" Harry said to himself…_

_Harry climbed onto Ferdinand's back. The dragon was now at his adult size with magnificent, strong wings and a graceful, powerful body. After Harry secured himself, they both took off into the air. Harry never felt happier. This was a creature that he himself had nurtured and raised – love filled his heart until it felt as if it was going to explode…_

_End Flashback…_

"_Expecto Patronum!_" Harry cried. A silver mist erupted from his wand and formed a shield between him and the Dementor. Harry couldn't believe it. He was stopping a Dementor in its tracks. However, it was only brief. Then he started to hear voices like a broken radio and see memories like static on a TV screen.

"_Riddikulus!"_ Lupin cried, and the boggart returned to its case. "Brilliant, Harry! That was good! Very good!" He offered Harry a piece of chocolate, smiling at him.

Harry offered a weak grin, pride shown clearly on his face. He thought back to those memories. They weren't overflowing with the 'shallow' happiness, but raising and nurturing Ferdinand had been one of the greatest joys of his life. It gave him a happiness that reached the depths of his heart, seeing Ferdinand grew from a baby dragon into an adult. "Can I try another memory, Professor?."

There was no hesitation in Lupin's voice this time. "Alright. Ready? One, two, three!"

_Flashback…_

_Harry stood between Hermione and the troll, his wand raised to protect both of them. "Bombarda Maxima!" he cried, sending the troll flying backwards through walls and knocking it unconscious. He breathed heavily and turned to Hermione. She was safe. He had saved someone's life! He could feel himself glowing. Turning to Hermione, he said gently, "Hey, it's okay now…"_

_Ginny's eyes snapped open and she sat up groggily to look at her surroundings. Looking guilty, Ginny seemed as if she was about to burst into tears. "Oh, Harry, it was me. But I swear I didn't mean to. Riddle made me…" _

_"It's okay. Riddle's just a memory now." Harry smiled. Ginny was safe. Again, that peaceful feeling swept through him, filling him to the very core of his being. Tired and beaten though he was, he never felt happier and more content, having kept Ginny safe._

_End Flashback…_

"_Expecto Patronum!" _Harry cried, more confident this time, his voice firm. What happened next made Harry realized what his happiest memories were – they were of him protecting others. Sure, he never liked the journey required, but afterwards, he had always found his labors well worth it. Something large burst out of the end of his wand. Harry stared. The creature opened its webbed wings and opened its jaws to spurt a torrent of white, misty flames at the boggart Dementor, who stumbled backwards, engulfed in the flames.

Lupin closed the lid of the chest over the boggart and turned to the Patronus, his jaw open in shock.

Harry could only let out a whisper. "Professor, what is that?"

Measured at about forty feet, the dragon took up nearly the entire classroom. Its warmth spread through Harry's veins and permeated the classroom. White mist seemed to roll off its body with every movement. Then it flew at Harry and burst into mist, which swirled around him, giving him a sense of peace and serenity as he turned to Lupin.

"That, Harry, is a corporeal Patronus, a full-fledged Patronus," Lupin said, looking at Harry with something akin to awe in his eyes. "The Patronus Charm, Harry, is very advanced magic. Very few people can conjure up a full-body Patronus, especially at such a young age and especially of such large size."

"Why is mine a dragon, Professor?" Harry asked as they exited the classroom and Lupin locked the door behind them. "I mean, of all the animals it could be, why is it a dragon?"

"I don't know if I am the right person to consult in such matters, Harry. A dragon can symbolize many things – power, strength, wisdom, even evil." Seeing Harry's horrified look, Lupin chuckled softly before assuring him, "However, I highly doubt this dragon is saying that you are evil, Harry."

Harry didn't seem assured. Fear flashed in his eyes as he said, "But, Professor, what if it's trying to warn me of turning evil? Maybe there's something in me that's waiting to come out – a darkness…"

Lupin lowered himself to eye-level in front of Harry, "No, Harry, listen to me. People don't turn evil without meaning to. Tell me – what are you most afraid of now that you have found a way to repel a Dementor?" His eyes bore into Harry's.

Harry let out a whisper, "I'm afraid…of turning into someone like Voldemort. Last year, when people were making suggestions that I was the heir of Slytherin, I wasn't sure if that's not true."

Lupin, to Harry's surprise, smiled kindly. "If you're afraid of something, Harry, what's your natural reaction?"

"I'd run away from it, unless I am compelled to fight," Harry replied.

"Exactly! So if you're afraid of turning into someone like Voldemort, chances are – you won't, right?"

Harry nodded, feeling a huge weight being lifted off his chest. However, as he walked back to Gryffindor Tower, he couldn't help thinking about why his Patronus was a dragon. _My Patronus is the reflection of my soul…_

…

_Harry,_

_Good luck at your Quidditch match tomorrow. I'll be there to watch in the stands. If you happen to fly past, look towards where Hermione is sitting. I'll see you soon._

_Padfoot_

Harry wondered how Sirius was supposed to get past all the Dementors waiting outside Hogwarts grounds, but he assumed the Dementors' power didn't work so well on animals. On Thursday morning, he was quite excited for the game – not because of the game itself but because Sirius will be watching him.

"It's pouring rain outside," Hermione muttered, looking out the window. "It's not the best weather to play in. They should've canceled it."

"Well, since they didn't, I guess I'll just have to do with what I have."

Wood approached Harry at the breakfast table and asked worriedly, "Harry, will you be okay playing with glasses on? A Seeker's sharp eyesight is the most important asset…"

"Don't worry. I have it under control," Hermione said, taking out her wand. "_Impervius. _There. Now, his glasses will repel water._"_

Wood appeared relieved. Actually, he looked so grateful to Hermione that Harry thought that he would've kissed her had that not been so inappropriate – and the fact that he wanted to avoid injury before the game (injury that Hermione would not hesitate to give had he kissed her).

During the game though, Harry had trouble concentrating to find the Snitch. The rain had drenched all his Quidditch robes and the extra weight was making it hard for him to maneuver around the field. The weather had been much worse than he thought. He was also shivering from the cold, which was freezing him to the bone, making his hands go numb. Where was the bloody Snitch? He just wanted to catch it and get the game over with.

Finally, he saw a glitter of gold and noticed that the Ravenclaw Seeker had seen it, too. Diving steeply towards the little gold ball, Harry pulled up just before hitting the ground. The other team's Seeker had already pulled away, not being able to make such a dive. Standing up on his broom, Harry reached out his hand and grasped the Snitch, grinning triumphantly and forgetting that he was drenched and cold. Landing on the ground, Harry raised the Snitch into the air as people cheered. Everyone was ecstatic – both from the fact that Harry caught the Snitch and the fact that they can all go inside now.

However, suddenly, the temperature dropped even further. The excitement, the enthusiasm felt as if they were being drained away from the atmosphere…People's excited voices now turned into screams of horror, and Harry heard voices in his head again. _"You little cock slut…scream, scream like the whore you are…no, please not Harry…"_ Groaning, he fell to the ground, clutching his head. _Concentrate, Harry…Remember saving Ginny from death…Remember hugging Hermione after defeating the troll…Remember... _Harry whipped out his wand and cried, "_Expecto Patronum!"_

However, only mist erupted from his wand, nothing like his corporeal Patronus. However, he still noticed the air warming up around him, and the voices were fading. Looking around, he noticed that the teachers had cast their Patronuses. There was a phoenix, no doubt Dumbledore's, that was radiating enough warmth to cover almost the entire field. There was a cat and a wolf...and a doe? Who casted that one? The doe stood in front of him and charged down the nearest Dementor…

Dumbledore appeared furious as he descended the stands into the field. His phoenix Patronus flew around the field, repelling the Dementors and forming a sort of shield around the field. Harry had never seen him so angry, and from then on, he realized he would never want to be on the wrong end of the Headmaster's temper. His blue eyes were flashing dangerously, and he was anything but a kind, quaint, grandfatherly figure. _So this is the Dumbledore that the most powerful Dark wizard of all times is afraid of, _Harry thought before slipping away from consciousness…

"You reckon he'll be alright?"

"He's got to be!"

"I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Stupid Dementors. I wish the Ministry would remove them already."

Harry opened his eyes and reached around for his glasses. Putting them on, he sat up weakly. "Let me guess. Hospital wing? So what did I miss?"

"Besides Dumbledore blasting the Dementors into oblivion? Not much," Fred said happily. "Heck, I hope I never get on Dumbledore's bad side."

"He was angrier than we ever saw him," Hermione put in.

Suddenly, a large black dog leaped onto Harry's lap and whined.

"I'm fine, Sirius…" Harry noticed everyone freezing up and said, rolling his eyes, "I named my dog Sirius. Anything wrong with that?"

"You named your dog after a mass murderer?" George asked in disbelief.

"SIRIUS IS NOT A MURDERER! HE WAS FRAMED!" Harry roared, making everyone in the hospital wing jump, even Madam Pomfrey, who stopped pouring out some sort of potion to stare at him. Harry was breathing heavily. He could already feel a headache coming along. Sirius, who had also jumped, was now watching him with incomprehensible eyes.

"Now, you all, leave the boy to rest!" Madam Pomfrey said, shooing the crowd out the door. She was about to take Sirius out, too, but after Harry begged her to let him stay, she finally gave in. "I suppose you're not in too terrible a condition," she muttered.

Harry grinned. He always liked Madam Pomfrey – she may look and act strict on the outside, but she can be really easy to persuade, as long as one knew how to do so. Plus, she always had a soft spot for him since he brewed so many potions for her use.

That night, as he lay down to sleep, he wondered why he couldn't correctly perform the Patronus Charm.

…

"Professor, why wasn't I able to conjure my Patronus?" Harry asked Lupin as they walked along the viaduct, feeling the cool breeze.

Lupin put his hands in his pockets and said gently, "You must understand, Harry, that it is far more difficult to fend off multiple Dementors. In addition, in order to cast a Patronus, your mind needs to be in a particular state. When you tried to cast the Patronus Charm after the Quidditch match, one, you were already under the influence of the Dementors, two, you weren't very experienced with the charm yet, and three, there were many Dementors. With more experience, you'll be able to better cast the charm under the influence of Dementors."

"Why did they come onto the field that day, Sir?"

"They are getting very hungry, Harry. Dumbledore won't allow them anywhere near the school, and they haven't been able to feed off humans for a long time." Lupin sounded somewhat worried about this.

…

Harry had only realized his recent tendency to spend more time alone, usually walking along the edge of the Forbidden Forest and the Black Lake. He loved the peace it brought him. He wondered briefly if that was a good thing. Today, as he was walking along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he saw the strange girl from earlier. This time, she was kneeling on the forest floor, gingerly petting Sasha. He watched her for a few minutes, trying to decide whether to approach her or not. He had a crazy urge to ask her why she wasn't afraid of the Thestrals or Sasha. However, what came out of his mouth due to a last minute observation was slightly different than what he had actually wanted to ask: "Aren't you a bit cold, not wearing any shoes?"

The girl looked up at him with her protuberant eyes and replied, "Not really. I'm used to it." She stood up. "Your snake is really nice."

"Her name's Sasha," Harry said, bending down to allow Sasha to slither into his sleeve.

"And you're Harry Potter." It was neither a question nor was it an exclamation of surprise or fangirl adoration. It was simply a statement.

"Right…and you are?" Harry stood up, trying to figure out this girl from what he knew of her so far. She seemed unpredictable. Maybe he was just overanalyzing her too much.

"I'm Luna," the girl said, her voice dreamlike.

"Er…nice to meet you, Luna." There was a silence as Harry wondered how to ask his questions without sounding too awkward with this girl whom he barely knew. "I saw you the other day, feeding and petting some Thestrals." Her eyes were centered on him, and they were starting to make him uncomfortable. "I am just curious, but, er, aren't you afraid of them, or Sasha for that matter?"

"Not really." She began to walk slowly, as if indicating that he should follow. To Harry's surprise, he realized that walking lessened the awkwardness. Maybe the reason was because it gave them something to do besides standing there and staring at each other. "You're not afraid of them, are you?" She asked him.

"Well, no, but I'm curious why you aren't."

"They're just different. Different doesn't mean they're bad. Just like you. You can speak Parseltongue, but it doesn't mean you're bad. You're just different."

Harry couldn't argue with that. "What about you? You're different, too." Seeing Luna smile, he said, "And you're not bad either." He mentally slapped himself. That actually sounded really wrong, the way it came out of his mouth. "So you can relate to them easily, too, I suppose?"

Luna nodded.

After a moment of silence, Harry asked curiously, "Why do you wear a butterbeer cork necklace around your neck, Luna?"

"As oppose to wearing it around my wrist like a bracelet?" she asked.

"No, I mean as oppose to wearing it at all," Harry said.

"It's to keep away the Nargles. They've been stealing my things, you see."

Harry blinked. Nargles? He had always considered himself to be an unofficial naturalist, and he was pretty sure that creatures called Nargles do not exist. "Do you mean nifflers?" Harry asked to make sure he wasn't hearing things. "They tend to steal shiny objects…"

"No, I meant Nargles. They tend to steal things in general, not just shiny objects."

Harry's mind was finally able to piece everything together. "Is that why you don't wear shoes? Because the _Nargles_ stole them?" Receiving a nod from his companion, he wanted to smack his forehead. He was right earlier when he thought that Luna might be one of those people labeled as odd around the school and therefore targeted to be made fun of. However, before he could tell her the truth, maybe he should start somewhere else… "Luna, where have you heard about Nargles from?"

"My father tells me about them, and he owns the _Quibbler_, where he explains what they do." Luna was gazing dreamily off at the trees now.

Harry gawked. The _Quibbler?_ She's not serious…Hermione had complained to him about the tabloid before – it was the biggest piece of lunacy out there. And he himself had to admit – most of it was pretty much rubbish. However, he decided against saying that to Luna. Instead, he opted for a far safer choice, "Luna, I don't think it's the Nargles. Have you ever thought that maybe your housemates are taking them?"

"That would explain why this necklace hasn't been working effectively. Oh, well, I think they think I'm a bit odd. Some people call me 'Loony Lovegood' actually," Luna said, shrugging and seeming unconcerned. "It's all in good fun, I suppose, although I should make a list of all the things I've lost so that I make sure I have them all back by the end of term."

Harry stared. Such a forgiving, patient nature… "What else did you lost?" he asked.

"Oh, some earrings with beetle wings, a black school cloak, a purple quill…"

_I hope you can remember this for me, Sasha. You have a better memory than I do when it comes to these things: beetle wing earrings, black cloak…_

Noticing that it was quickly getting dark, Harry turned to Luna, "Maybe we should return to the castle. It's getting dark…" He didn't know why, but he had a bad feeling about the darkness seeping in – and he trusted his instincts.

"That would be fine."

As the sky grew darker, Harry shivered as a chill ran down his spine. Cold seemed to be rushing through his veins. Why did he feel so skittish? He began to walk faster. Now he actually grabbed Luna's wrist to drag her along faster. Something didn't feel right…something just didn't feel right… "_Lumos_." He and Luna were nearing the castle. They were by the Black Lake now…

"_Scream! Scream, you son of a fucking bitch…" _Harry gasped and fell to his knees, clutching his head. Looking up, he saw black, hooded figures approaching them and closing in around them.

"Harry?" Luna's voice had lost all of its calmness and dreaminess. Now it was all concern.

_Dementors are more active at night…Lupin said they're getting hungry…_Harry wanted to smack himself for being so dumb. Why did they have to stay out so late? Of course, how could starving Dementors resist two humans staying out at night? Now danger was surrounding them from all sides…He tried to focus. Why was the Dementors' effect so strong this time? How many Dementors were there? _"Avada Kedavra!" _Harry heard his mother's scream. _No! Focus, Harry! There's no Dumbledore to save you this time! FOCUS!_ It was a lot easier said than done.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_ He cried. However, his happy memory dissipated into green light and his uncle's sneering face. Only a silvery mist erupted from the end of his wand. He felt happiness leaving him as if it was being sucked away. He couldn't even remember what made him happy. Depression was beginning to drench his being, and he shivered, wrapping his arms around his chest. Turning to Luna, his only hope of their survival, he struggled to keep his mind grounded enough to say, "Luna, think of something happy…and say _Expecto Patronum_ to cast the Patronus Charm…" It was a far off hope, however, at best. Luna was younger than he was and she never had training with the Patronus Charm. He had hoped that she would be stronger against the Dementors' influence, but when he looked at her face, his hope vanished.

Tears were streaming down Luna's cheeks, which shocked Harry, even in the midst of the Dementors. Had he not seen Luna cry right in front of him, he would've never been able to imagine her cry.

"Mother, don't! No…mother…don't leave…don't die…" Luna was breaking down, right in front of him.

_Her mother died? _Harry couldn't help but note that he was watching her in her most vulnerable moment. Harry turned away, realizing that her worst memory was the same as his. _Let's face it, Harry, you messed up. I'm sorry, Luna, I can't save you…_ A Dementor was lowering its hood, and Harry could see a gaping hole where its mouth should be. With horror, he realized that it was planning to give him and Luna the Dementor's Kiss. There was no way to avoid this. Everything would end here…_THUMP!_

Harry's head snapped to the side, the pain snapping him out of his depression temporarily. He opened his eyes to see Sasha, who had slid out of his robe and was now glaring at him. _SNAP OUT OF IT! YOU HAVE SOMEONE ELSE'S LIFE IN YOUR HANDS! KEEP FIGHTING! _

Harry turned to look dully at Luna, who was crying and sobbing on the ground. _You like…protecting people. Even at the risk of your life because you understand and sympathize with pain and suffering. You understand how desperate someone is when they hope for help in their fear. Despite everything you've been through, Harry, you still have more compassion than anyone else I know. Such passion, Harry, always yields results._ He allowed Hermione's words to settle in his heart. The Dementors were coming closer, and the effects were becoming stronger. Harry wrapped his arms around Luna. Compassion wasn't a happy feeling, so the Dementors couldn't take it away from him… "Luna…"

Protecting people was what made him happy – it was for that that his heart beat every day, that was his dream, that was the derivative of his love, which Dumbledore often praised and mentioned that he had so much of. Holding Luna and giving her the little protection he had to offer made his heart thrill with a dull, yet strong joy, and he seized it. "_Expecto Patronum,"_ he said solemnly, his voice clear and almost echoing in the darkness, where there was no other sound except the Dementors' rattling breaths.

A bright white light erupted from his wand, and the dragon he had seen only once before emerged from it, filling the area with warmth and bright light. _Was this Dumbledore's happy thought, too?_ Harry thought. _Protecting his beloved students?_ Hope filled Harry. They were going to make it out alive.

The dragon stood up on its hind legs and spread out its wings, repelling the Dementors from Harry and Luna. Opening its jaws, it breathed out a jet of white, misty flames at nearby Dementors, driving them away. With every movement, its warmth permeated Harry's muscles and gave him strength. Then it lowered itself onto the ground and followed Harry back to the castle as he carried Luna on his back. She had stopped crying by now and was fast asleep.

As they approached the castle, McGonagall and Dumbledore rushed out. McGonagall was by his side in a second, relieving him of Luna. "Mr. Potter, would you kindly tell us what happened?" she asked, her voice high. "Why were you out after dark? I hope this is not another one of your heroic escapades!"

"Actually, this time, Professor, it was no one's fault but our own. We lost track of time, so we were out past dark," Harry said truthfully. "Dementors attacked us."

"So, Lupin was right when he told us the Patronus we all saw outside our windows had to be yours," McGonagall said, turning to the white, glowing dragon behind them, which disappeared after she said that. "While you were extremely foolish in staying out so late, you have my compliments that that was a very impressive Patronus."

"Yes, that was what led us to believe that things aren't all quiet on the grounds which leads us to where we are now," Dumbledore said, relief clear in his eyes. "Now, Professor, if you could, could you take Miss Lovegood to the hospital wing while I have a small talk with Mr. Potter?"

"Of course, Professor Dumbledore." McGonagall carried Luna to the hospital wing after giving Harry a stern look, to which he had the decency to lower his head in shame over losing track of time after dark.

"I'm sure, Harry, that you are very tired. Casting a Patronus Charm amidst so many Dementors is very draining," Dumbledore said as they walked towards Gryffindor tower. "However, this will be very brief. Professor Lupin had so kindly informed me of your curiosity as to why your Patronus is a dragon of all creatures."

Harry nodded. He wanted to find out his true nature…

"Like any humble wizard, I would say that I only have a theory. However, I would be lying if I say that I have any doubt as to whether my theories are correct. Harry, do you read myths and legends often?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry shook his head.

"In myths and legends, dragons are very often depicted as guardians of hoards of treasure. They are such good defenders that a knight or a hero must kill them in order to gain access to their treasure," Dumbledore said softly, almost solemnly. "Although many of these legends depict dragons in a negative light, one must admire the positive qualities that are portrayed in these creatures. The legends are not far off from the truth. Dragons guard what is precious to them and would die protecting it." Dumbledore smiled. "That I think is the reason why your Patronus is a dragon, Harry. You have such a strong will to protect. The dragon, in addition to being the symbol of wisdom and power, is the symbol of a courageous protector. I hope that this one-sided conversation eases your mind."

…

"Thanks, Sasha. I think we've found all of them," Harry said, waving his wand at Luna's shoes hanging from the archway to take them down. He laid them in a box that held a neatly folded black cloak, a purple quill, earrings with beetle wings, as well as an assortment of other items. With Sasha's magically enhanced sense of smell, it hadn't been hard finding everything. He closed the box and went up to the hospital wing, where he found Luna still asleep on her bed. Seeing her so peaceful in her sleep caused him to smile. He laid the box down on the floor next to her bed and left without leaving anything to suggest that he had been there. He liked the feeling of doing anonymous things for people. As he quietly closed the hospital wing door, he silently hoped that he and Luna could talk again soon – next time without the awkwardness and the Dementors attacking.

**So, several notes I want to make about this chapter.**

**When Lupin said that more powerful Patronuses are formed from memories that give the caster a profound sense of happiness, it doesn't mean that Patronuses formed from other happy memories don't work as well. I'm just going off of what happened in the Deathly Hallows, when J.K. Rowling compared the Patronuses of Umbridge and Harry. The book said Harry's Patronus gave a noticeably warmer effect than Umbridge's did. This may just be my interpretation, but I felt the reason was because Harry derives happiness, the source of which drives his good character, from something deeper and much more profound than Umbridge did. **

**I also put a bit of my own beliefs in this chapter – the belief that if a happy memory formed the core of Harry's being, he'll be able to call it up even in the presence of Dementors. The reason for it is because the happiness is from deep within him, a part of him. It won't be easy for him to call it up, but it will be considerably less hard than if he tried another happy memory – like say the exhilaration he felt from flying for the very first time.**

**Also, it might've been a bit overboard to assign Harry's Patronus as a dragon because as far as my knowledge of Harry Potter goes, the only wizard in history who able to conjure a Patronus up to twenty feet – the size of a giant – was some Greek wizard from long time ago. However, in here, Harry's Patronus was forty feet long, not to mention that it was a dragon – one of the most powerful magical creatures there is. However, the meaning was there and the reasoning was clear enough. Harry's character derives itself around what makes Harry most happy – his will to protect, and that is the reason his Patronus was a dragon. (There's also the fact that Harry has a very close connection to the dragon, although of course, Dumbledore did not know about that).  
><strong>

**So…please review! **


	20. The Cerberus in the Storm

**The Cerberus in the Storm**

**I don't know for sure if any of my readers would care, but I just thought some might be interested in some of the things I found that is somewhat related to my story. I'm sure many have heard of the Westboro Baptist Church. So I found this video on Youtube (sorry, I don't know why this doesn't allow me to put in the complete link. Just type in Youtube before .com): **

**.com/watch?v=50r0CnKq7_k**

**Even though the daughter of one of the families that are part of this hate group was raised to hate and experienced a lot of hate in her life, she grew up, understanding how to love - the true meaning of forgiveness, mercy, and love. She had no reason to love anyone, but she chooses to anyway. She reminded me of Harry in both my fic and the books, so…it's interesting. It really is amazing how such things happen. **

Harry wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, having finished brewing a particularly difficult antidote at one of Snape's evening sessions. His nerves had been stretched the entire time due to the stress resulting from the exactness and the quick pace required for his task because it was timed. However, when he presented the potion to his mentor, he was grinning with pride and excitement. Snape said that the potion would end their unit on antidotes.

"It's passable," Snape said emotionlessly. However, his black eyes glittered with a strange emotion. Was it pride? Perhaps. He didn't often come across such a talented student. "As you know, this potion was the cumulative 'test' on antidotes, requiring you to apply all your knowledge of them and including all the laws of brewing them such as Golpalott's Third Law."

Harry nodded. Snape had specifically selected a blended poison that was so difficult to brew an antidote to that Harry ended up using over a hundred ingredients, although he used smaller quantities of each so that the potion wouldn't boil over his cauldron top. It also took him two hours to brew it, which was just under the time limit of two hours and a quarter, and now it was almost ten o'clock. "Sir, I'm just curious, but how would brewing an antidote that takes up two-hours save anyone's life if they die before I could finish brewing it?"

"The point, Potter, is that it wouldn't take you two hours. Brewing this complex potion would usually be done by a team of potioneers, who would work individually to brew an antidote to each poison in the blend. The only difficult part is finding the single ingredient that would transform the combined antidotes into a single whole, which you have done…a fair job of." That was the biggest understatement of the century. Harry had actually done a remarkable job of finding that ingredient – with his background in alchemy, it only took him several minutes to figure out the ingredient.

However, for Harry, that comment from Snape was as good as a praise. "Thank you, Sir."

Snape turned away from Harry, his hands behind his back. "In the last two years, you have learned to brew more than two hundred potions in these sessions. You learned how to identify more than seventy potions ingredients, how to find them, how to prepare them, how to store them, how to sort them, and how to distinguish between the good ingredients and the rotten ones. You also learned the laws, guidelines, and general procedures for brewing potions, bottling them, and storing them. That's what you reap when you study potions for hours every night. You have exhausted Hogwart's potions curriculum up to the sixth year."

Harry was shocked but didn't know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that he had exhausted Hogwarts curriculum (did that include NEWT level potions?). Everything Snape listed was in its own right a good thing, but Snape's tone made it sound as if it was bad.

"Here, we will deviate from the school syllabus and curriculum. Some potions will still coincide, but there will be many more that I will decide to teach you. These potions will be very complex, and we will study theory and plan out the brewing process for several weeks before you start to brew them. Even with your talent," Snape said grudgingly, "it will take several more months for you to brew them, revise them, brew them again, and master them. I will warn you now, Potter, you will make many mistakes on your first tries, so don't get cocky just because you have displayed success so far."

Harry's eyes widened. Months? "Sir, how long will it take to brew some of these potions?"

"Felix Felicis will take about six months. That's the general time it will take." Snape turned around to face Harry, his eyes narrowing. "You'll also be brewing some of the most powerful potions in existence such as Amortentia and Veritaserum. You'll also be looking at more recently developed potions, such as the Wolfsbane potion. These potions are not for the faint-hearted, Potter. However, they are some of the most useful potions you will ever encounter, and you will be studying them in depth. You will also be studying the rarer ingredients in potion-making."

Harry nodded acceptingly. "Yes, Sir."

"Then you are dismissed." Snape closed his eyes and turned on his heels to leave. "No homework, and no more sessions for the rest of this week. However, be back here at eight sharp when you return from Easter break."

Harry was in shock. That was surprisingly nice…Even last year, Snape didn't give him such a break before the holidays. If anything, he gave him more work! Then Harry remembered that Sirius's trial was that Saturday. He would need time to prepare. "Sir? Just curious, but would you rather have Siri- I mean, Black or Pettigrew in Azkaban?" He was hesitant, knowing Snape hated both of them, but…

Snape's lips curled disdainfully. "I'd rather both in Azkaban, but I suppose I'll have to live with my second preference – the guilty one." With that, he swept out of the classroom.

…

"Seriously, he gave you the rest of the week off, Harry?" Hermione asked happily.

Harry nodded cheerfully. "Yeah. I know he's a really unpleasant teacher to work with, but it was really nice of him uncharacteristically. I guess he can have a soft side." He was ecstatic. His schedule was unusually hectic for a Hogwarts student. He would go to his classes and struggle to finish his homework during his breaks throughout the day. Then after school, he had Quidditch practice for two hours, sometimes more. Then he would have rushed through dinner so that he would have had enough time to finish the rest of his homework before meeting with Snape at eight. Usually the sessions last around two to three hours. By the time Harry was done, he would have been exhausted, but he still had work to do for Snape for the next day. So, he'd do that for another one or two hours before taking a break and going off to explore the secret passageways of the castle for a half an hour or so until one in the morning. Going to bed then, he'd have to wake up earlier than the rest of his dormmates if he wanted to finish the rest of his potions work before classes start and advance at the same pace he always did in learning Transfiguration and keeping ahead of his classmates in the other classes. On average, Harry slept for four hours a night (and skipped several meals when necessary), which Hermione often berated him about stunting his growth.

Harry could honestly say that he would have died had he not been so proficient at nutrition potions and the Wideye potion. He had several bottles of them lined up on his bedside table, although he tried to avoid using them unless necessary due to their disgusting taste. Now, without Snape's homework and sessions, he felt as if he had more free time than ever, which he usually spent with Hermione, doing whatever she felt like doing, which was usually academically related. Currently, he was in the library, leaning against the wall on his chair with a heavy stack of books in front of him on the table, most of which were about Transfiguration, but there were some on alchemy and Charms as well. "Snape can be a really good teacher…when he wants to be that is. It's kinda weird, but he's actually one of my favorite teachers."

"Only because he showed you how to brew interesting potions," Hermione grumbled. "You have four years on everyone else."

"Am I detecting a little jealousy in your voice, Hermione?" Harry teased, grinning.

"What? No! I'll learn it soon enough," she denied unconvincingly.

Harry chuckled, his eyes still focused on his Transfiguration book held open on his lap in front of him.

Neither of the two second-years noticed a first-year watching them behind a bookshelf. Ginny had just happened to be in the library that day and, realizing that her idol was there, was quick to seize the opportunity to learn more about him, since she knew that Harry and Hermione talked more with each other when she and Ron weren't there. Right at that moment, she was nearly melting. Harry looked so…cool, seemingly relaxed even though he was reading what seemed to be NEWT level Transfiguration. A hand was behind his head, like a pillow between it and the wall. The other hand held the pages of the book so that it wouldn't turn while he read. He wasn't wearing his robes. Instead, he was wearing a white button down shirt with the first few buttons unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up, his red and gold tie loose around his neck. His cloak was hung over his chair.

"Are you worried about the trial at all, Harry?" Hermione asked while scanning a page on the nature of a certain charm.

"Now that you mention it…" Harry looked up from his book, putting his hand to his chin and furrowing his eyebrows slightly as if in thought. "...slightly. I feel as if something bad is going to happen at the trial. But I can't really do anything about it until then anyway." He shrugged and flipped a page.

"How can you be so casual?" she replied, surprised. His reply had been so off-handed that she was having trouble deciding whether to take him seriously or not.

"But I really can't do anything about it though!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at his childlike, innocent tone. "I'm surprised you can still focus on working even if the evidence for Sirius is overwhelming." Actually, she wasn't. Harry was amazingly focused whenever he was engrossed in something. Many times, he was able to multitask by reading and talking to her at the same time, but sometimes, when he's already into something…even if Hermione was screaming at the top of her lungs to get his attention, he wouldn't even hear her. Then she'd have to shake him, and then he'd be completely confused as to why she was shaking him in the first place.

"I might as well be productive, although I'm kinda distracted more than usual. You know, with the trial looming ahead." Harry stretched and then his eyes wandered to the window. "It's raining really hard outside."

Hermione nodded in agreement. It had actually rained so hard that Wood cancelled Quidditch practice, which was a rarity.

"Is that someone outside?" Harry squinted to have a better look.

"What? Harry, no one would be outside in this weather." However, Hermione looked outside as well. What she saw shocked her. Someone was twirling around in the rain in the courtyard below. "But…Harry, they're going to get sick!" she said weakly.

"Let's go." Harry ran out of the library followed by Hermione, with Ginny following them from a distance. By the time they reached the courtyard, they saw a crowd of people gathering around the steps leading into the courtyard. They were pointing and laughing. "I guess they've never seen anyone twirl around in heavy rain before." He and Hermione stood by a window, and Harry nearly had a heart attack when he recognized the person twirling around in the rain.

"Harry, isn't that…Luna?" Hermione asked uncertainly. She knew Harry saved her from what must have been over a hundred Dementors.

"Yeah," Harry muttered dully. He was starting to wish he hadn't decided to investigate who was twirling around in the rain. Was Luna crazy? He glanced at the crowd, slightly nervous. "Let's go. I left some books in the library…" It made him feel guilty, leaving the crowd to stare and laugh at Luna, but she didn't seem to mind and they weren't hurting her…at least as far as he can tell. Besides, he would be thought of as crazy if he even interfered…Harry froze. Where had those thoughts come from?

"C'mon, cast the spell, cast the spell!" Harry turned to the voice and saw some students laughing. "C'mon, she won't care." Then they said some words that he couldn't make out. However, he saw their effects.

Luna tripped into a mud puddle that wasn't there before.

Harry widened his eyes, letting out a nearly inaudible gasp.

"_Eat dirt, Potter!" Dudley stomped on Harry's head, pushing his face further into the mud. _

_Harry panicked. He couldn't breathe. However, struggling more only caused Dudley to increase the pressure. His head really hurt, and his lungs felt as though they were about to explode. When will the torture end?_

"_Dud, he's like an insect. You can squash him just like that!" Malcolm laughed. Then he kicked Harry between his legs. _

_Harry gasped in pain and took in a mouthful of mud…_

Harry shook his head, shaken. His shoulders trembled, and he felt unsteady on his feet. It was as if his mind was telling him, _Remember your past. Remember where you came from. It was your sympathy that got you this far, so you should be willing to risk all this for sympathy yet again!_

"Hey, mate, wanna go play chess? I heard you're really good at it," Ron said, approaching Harry. Seeing Harry about to approach the crowd, he pulled him back. "Wait, Harry. You don't want to be associated with her – it's social suicide!"

Harry turned to him and said softly, "You didn't want to associate yourself with me before either." All he had wanted in young life was to be accepted, to be loved…He had finally got it. People admired him, believing him to be a hero. But he knew that if he walked away from this, he would feel nothing but regret. It would be turning his back to his own philosophy.

"But she doesn't even care! She's not worth it, Harry."

"Just because she doesn't show it doesn't mean she doesn't care." Flashes of Luna ran through Harry's mind. _They're just different. Different doesn't mean they're bad. Just like you. You can speak Parseltongue, but it doesn't mean you're bad. You're just different…I think they think I'm a bit odd. Some people call me 'Loony Lovegood' actually…Mother, don't! No…mother…don't leave…don't die…_ "Deep inside, she longs to be accepted, just like any of us. Worth is only dependent upon how human you are, and trust me – she's more human than many." With that, he pulled himself out of Ron's grasp and continued what he was about to do.

"But, Harry!"

"Stop, Ron."

Ron turned to Hermione, who watched the scene with sad eyes. "But, Hermione, Harry's going to…"

"I know. Ron, you don't understand how it feels to be alone. Can you imagine how it feels to have not a single friend whom you can trust? Can you imagine how it feels to have people reject you simply because of who you are?" Hermione bit her lip. "It's painful. It hurts and feels as if your heart is about to rip apart each time." She closed her eyes. "Have you ever wondered why Harry has so few regrets in his life? The reason is because he acts on his beliefs and stays true to himself…no matter how hard it is. This is the friend I love and admire." As far as she knew, Harry longed for acceptance all his life, and now, he was willingly giving it up for one person whom he barely knew – similar to what he did for her over a year ago, when he pulled her close to him even though others called her a 'know-it-all.' Hermione speculated that a more internal battle like this one was far harder for Harry than an external battle.

Harry approached the laughing crowd, his green eyes angry and stormy even though his heart was thumping hard.

"Oh, hey, Harry, how's it going?" one of the Ravenclaws asked him before seeing the look on Harry's face.

"You are all pathetic." Having steeled himself, Harry was going all the way.

The crowd turned to him, surprised at his voice and words, which were cold and completely opposite of what they usually hear from him. It was as if the Harry they all knew were replaced with a colder, angrier version.

Harry walked up to the boy who casted the tripping jinx and grabbed his wand hand, scaring the boy with his firm grip and intimidating expression. "How thick are you? You're made of blood and flesh, just as she is! How different is she from you? Would you care if someone did that you? Then why did you do that to her?"

"B-but she doesn't act as if she cared…" he said feebly.

"Is that reason for you to do that to her? You did that because she was different from you! She is different on the outside, but inside and throughout, she's the same. Just because she acted so, what gave you the right to declare that she doesn't have feelings just like you do?" Harry let go of him and walked down the steps with people watching him. The rain was heavy, but Harry had taken care to cast the water repelling charm on all his clothes that day. The rain still felt like a cold shower, though. He approached the twirling Luna, who was covered head to toe in mud, which was slowly dripping off due to the rain. Clearly, she did not feel like cleaning up first before continuing her twirling. "Luna."

Luna stopped and turned to him, a serene smile on her face. "Oh, hello, Harry."

"Hey. _Tergeo_." Harry raised his wand to her and it began to siphon off the mud on her.

Afterwards, Luna looked down at herself before saying, "That was nice of you, Harry. Thank you."

"No problem. Er…Luna, why are you dancing out here in this weather?"

"I wasn't dancing. I don't like dancing very much. Have you ever twirled around in the rain before? It's really fun, especially if it's heavy like this. I don't want to miss a second of it." Luna leaned her head back, closing her eyes and allowing the rain to hit her face. "I did this when I was younger, and doing this now, it kind of makes me feel as if I'm going back in time."

_When her mother was still alive…_ "You miss her…don't you? Your mother?" Harry asked softly, just loud enough to be heard over the rain. He almost smacked himself. How tactless was he?

She turned to him, and he thought she would've asked how he knew about her mother. Instead, she replied simply, "A little." As she was about to twirl around in the rain again, she told him, "You should try this, Harry. It's really fun." And off she went.

Harry felt very awkward. Then, after a bit of consideration, he shrugged. What did he have to lose? If he catches a cold, he'll just brew a potion and wait a day. He began to twirl around in the rain, slowly so he wouldn't get dizzy. At first, he felt simply stupid and childish. Then, what he found out amazed him. Never had he felt such a relieving experience. It was as if the rain washed away his troubles and worries. It was as if he were a child – a normal child, not the child he once was. He was carefree. Let the world go around him as it pleased. It was liberty at its highest…

Suddenly he found himself on the ground with Luna beside him. Both hadn't watched where they were twirling and had then twirled straight into each other. Harry sat up and looked down at Luna, who watched him with an incomprehensible expression on her face. Water dripped down Harry's hair and face. Their eyes locked together, and Harry saw that her silvery orbs weren't dreamlike like he thought they would've been. Instead, they were clear and bright, almost shining. Almost instinctively, he brushed away a few strands of her hair which had fallen over her face. Then suddenly, Luna shook her head, splashing both of them in water, and they both burst out in laughter. Harry's laugh, filled with pure joy, sounded throughout the courtyard.

Ron gawked. "Is he crazy? He's probably sick already! Maybe delirious…"

Hermione smiled. "No. I think he just experienced something…new." Never had she heard Harry laugh so…freely. It was so beautiful. _People also ran in the opposite direction when they found out I have a snake as a familiar. Wizards and witches tend to only look at the outside of an individual, but not many bothered to think about the inside. Underneath the skin, many are the same… _"The Cerberus…" Hermione whispered, connecting Luna to the Cerberus that Harry showed her last summer. Complete opposites on the outside, Harry and Luna were almost identical inside.

Harry stood up and offered Luna his hand, pulling her up. "You were right. That was really fun."

Luna opened her hand to feel the rain. "But it's lighter now – the rain. It's more fun when it's heavier." Suddenly she sneezed.

Harry chuckled. "You cold?"

"A little."

Harry took off his still dry cloak and hung it on her shoulders. "Better?"

"A lot." She looked at the small clasp, which had a lion on a red background. "It would have been nicer if it were an eagle on a blue background though."

Harry gave her a confused look before realizing that she was in Ravenclaw. He grinned. "Yeah, I think blue would've suited you better, too." When she sneezed again, Harry laughed before saying, "C'mon. You probably need a Pepperup Potion." He took her hand and led her inside. The crowd who were laughing at Luna before parted, many of them in confusion when seeing Harry holding Luna's hand. About a half an hour later, Harry stood with Luna outside her common room, earning himself several curious glances from the Ravenclaws coming in and out.

Luna took off his cloak and handed it back to him. "It was nice talking with you, Harry. It was almost like having a friend…"

"Luna, I am your friend," Harry said seriously.

"Oh, that's nice," she replied airily. "I suppose I'll see you later then?"

"Of course."

Luna seemed thoughtful before adding, "Good luck with the trial on Saturday. I believe you when you said Sirius had been framed, and I think you'll win the case."

"Oh, thanks." Harry smiled, touched by her belief in him even though she never actually saw any proof of Sirius's innocence, and watched her answer some riddle to get into her common room before leaving for his common room.

…

"Ginny, don't take this the wrong way, but it's not really much of a secret," Hermione said gently. "I think we all, including Harry, can see that you're a bit infatuated with him. It's kinda obvious." And it was true, as far as Hermione can tell. Even before the Chamber of Secrets incident, Ginny always gave Harry those looks of adoration when she thought he wasn't looking. Sometimes she would even catch Ginny watching Harry while he slept in the common rooms. It was kind of creepy, but Hermione never said anything.

Ginny's face turned bright red, similar to what Ron does when he's embarrassed. "I really do like him though. I just really want to know what he's looking for in a girl. Maybe I can change to get his attention…"

"Don't," Hermione interrupted firmly. "What do you mean by 'get his attention'? You can always get his attention, just by talking to him."

"Not like that! You know what I mean…" Ginny turned away slightly. "Sometimes when we talk, I feel like he's just talking to me because he's being polite. It's not like when he talks to you. I don't know if you notice, but when he looks at you, there's this look of…" She struggled to come with the right word. "…tenderness and affection in his eyes. And I'm really jealous of that, Hermione. I wish with anything that he could look at me like that."

Hermione was quiet after her friend had confessed all this. No, she had noticed. She wasn't about to lie to herself – Harry did seem to have a particular fondness for her. Ginny was amazingly observant for someone with a little fangirl crush. Perhaps…this crush ran a little deeper?

"Y-you don't like him like that, do you?" Ginny asked tentatively.

"What?" Hermione was startled. "No, I-I don't. We're just friends, I swear!" Seeing Ginny's relieved look, she continued, "But, Ginny, changing yourself for him won't get you his attention, if that's what you mean. Harry…has a particular gift for generally understanding how the minds of people work. He'll be able to tell something's off. My advice to you is to just be yourself. If he notices you, that's good. If he doesn't…" She shrugged before saying in a low voice with a grin, "Just between you and me, I personally don't think his hormones have really kicked in yet."

Ginny smiled appreciatively in return before asking, "Hermione…there's something that has been really bothering me. You know, down in the Chamber of Secrets…"

Hermione nodded.

"Why did he go all the way down there, just to save me? I mean I know he's fearless and all, but we barely even talked…"

"First of all, he's not fearless," Hermione said firmly. "He's brave. I'll give him that, but those two are totally different things. He was brave in going to get you back, but he was really scared doing it. He said that he felt as if he was about to faint several times on that trip."

To say Ginny was surprised was an understatement. "But then why did he go down to get me?"

"Because he loves you," Hermione said simply.

Ginny gaped. "But we barely knew each other!"

"Knowing and loving isn't the same thing," Hermione replied in an almost lecturing tone. "There are many types of love, and the love that you're probably thinking of is only one of them. There's another type of love. This one is towards the people you see every day, even if you're practically strangers. It comes from when you realize that everyone is like yourself, with the entire package of feelings and emotions. He understood how you must be feeling down in the Chamber, and because of that, he was willing to put his life on the line for you. Just as he did for me, and more recently you might have known, Luna Lovegood."

Ginny nodded.

"I think that when he was going down into the Chamber," Hermione added slowly as if an afterthought, "even though he felt as though everything was dropped on him and his mind was in a mess, I think, I really think that his conscience was…at peace. He knew he wouldn't have any regrets no matter how the encounter ends. He did everything he could do to save you; he did everything he would've wanted someone to do if he was in your place."

"But…what reason would he have to think that way? I mean, Ron told me people didn't really give him any reason to be nice to them…"

"I think that's why," Hermione replied softly. "He knows the feeling doesn't feel good, so he doesn't want others to feel the same things he did."

"I would've just hexed everyone in my vicinity," Ginny muttered, making Hermione laugh.

The portrait door to the common room opened, and Harry came in, looking very happy. He sat down in an armchair next to the sofa which Hermione and Ginny were sitting on. Then, aware that he might have interrupted something, he excused himself, "Er…sorry if I interrupted your conversation." He stood up to leave, but Hermione stopped him.

"Harry, it's fine. We're done anyway. Right, Ginny?"

Ginny nodded vigorously, her eyes already locked on Harry, who sat down slowly, still feeling slightly awkward. His piercing eyes…his almost flawless skin…messy black hair… "Ow!" she hissed. "What was that for, Hermione?"

Hermione turned towards her and whispered, "You're not going to be able to have an interesting conversation with him if you just stare at him."

Ginny nodded, and when they both turned around, Harry was giving them both weird looks. "Am I missing something here?" he asked slowly. "You guys are acting…a bit weird?"

…

"Professor, aren't you going home for the holidays?" Harry asked, watching his teacher make tea. The office appeared exactly as it always had – not a suitcase in sight. It was Thursday night, and Harry wanted to talk to his favorite teacher before the holidays.

"Well, no," Lupin replied airily, although he appeared slightly saddened when Harry pointed out the fact.

Harry immediately caught the hint. "Professor," he began slowly, "do you think Sirius Black is innocent?"

Lupin handed him a cup of tea and said lightly, "Considering that Pettigrew is still alive, yes, I do think Sirius is innocent. Much evidence point to that conclusion."

Harry gave an internal whoop of glee. Of course, Lupin was far more logical than many of his classmates. "Just a shot in the dark, Professor, but would you be willing to spend the holidays at Potter Manor? It would be nice to have you over."

"That's kind of you, Harry, but I would be fine at Hogwarts." Lupin gave Harry a strange look. It wasn't every day a student asks a teacher if he was willing to spend the holidays with him.

"Please, Professor. The holidays are times to be spent with family!"

Lupin didn't bother pointing out that Harry wasn't family-family. "Why so persistent, Harry?"

"Please, Professor!" Harry insisted. "I promise you it will be worth it!"

Lupin sighed and gave in. It wasn't the first time he gave into Harry's bizarre requests, and it probably won't be the last time either. The boy was just so persistent. "Oh, alright…but really, Harry!"

…

Harry opened the door to Potter Manor, and Sirius came down the stairs, grinning from ear to ear. "Harry!"

Harry ran over and hugged his godfather. "How are you, Sirius?"

"Never been better. Heard the rumors that you fended off a hundred Dementors. True?"

Harry nodded proudly, although a pink tinge could be seen on his cheeks.

Sirius whistled. "Blimey, Harry, you can drive all the Dementors away from Azkaban like that!"

"That's the back-up plan if the trial goes badly." Harry grinned. "Sirius, I want to introduce you to someone at Hogwarts. I invited him to stay for the holidays." Seeing his curious looks, Harry turned to the door. "Professor, you can come in now!" A man in shabby robes came through the door, looking around with wonder. "You know, Professor, I would've thought you'd been to Potter Manor before."

"No, I actually have never. I rarely go to friends' houses." Then he finally noticed Sirius, who was frozen in shock. Instinctively, his hand reached for his wand. "Harry, why is an Azkaban convict in your house?" he asked, blurting out the first thing that came to his mind without thinking, shock being his first reaction. It really couldn't be helped, of course – he had thought of Sirius as a traitor for more than a decade.

Harry quickly moved to stand in front of Sirius. "Professor, he's alright! We formed an escape plan and then I helped him escape!"

"How did you know he was innocent…?" Lupin was even more shocked – Harry's carelessness could have gotten him killed!

"I'll explain later, but I-I just knew," Harry said shakily.

"You just…knew?" There was a long silence as Lupin and Sirius stared at each other.

"Remus! Moony! It's great to see you!" Of course, Sirius was the icebreaker. He held his arms outstretched to the sides for a hug.

Hesitant at first, Lupin soon relaxed as his shock wore off and he remembered that Pettigrew was still alive and Sirius was innocent. "Sirius, Padfoot my friend, I haven't seen you in such a long time." Both men hugged and laughed before Remus turned to Harry. "Now, Harry, I see what you were trying to do, but is there another purpose for inviting me here besides allowing me to see Sirius for the first time in years?"

Harry said innocently as he was about to go into the kitchen to make dinner, "Oh, I was just hoping you're willing to move in. This Manor is huge, and with just me and Sirius, it can get a bit empty. I mean, we have more than twenty bedrooms on the third floor…"

"What?" Harry turned around to see Lupin's shocked face.

Sirius, who was pleasantly surprised but got over it quickly, rolled his eyes as he said to Harry, "I guess you didn't tell him either before now." Then he turned to Lupin. "Really, Lupin, would you prefer to go back to that rubbish dump of an apartment you've got during the holidays?"

"No, Sirius, but really…" Lupin was feeling extremely awkward by now. He couldn't tell whether his student, who was also his friend's son, was treating him with pity or not. And it was all so sudden, too. He would've loved to live with them. He had grown close to Harry during their time together, and he missed Sirius as well. But…

"Happy Early Easter!" Harry chirped. "To both of you. Surprise!" Then he sent an uncertain look in Lupin's direction. "Unless, Professor, you don't want to…"

"I do, Harry, I do. It's just, well, I don't want to be a burden to you is all…" Lupin muttered softly, flushing ("Nonsense!" Sirius said).

Harry shook his head, grinning. "Of course not. Do you have stuff to get from your old apartment?" Receiving 'yes' as a response, Harry said happily, "Okay, we'll just move everything over here after Sirius's trial tomorrow. So what do you want for dinner?"

"But, Harry, are you sure…Excuse me?" Lupin asked, shocked. "Harry, you don't have to. We're adults. We can cook our own food…"

"Technically, he has about forty house elves at his disposal, maybe more," Sirius drawled. "He just likes cooking. He's actually really good at it. Might as well give him your order, Remus. He won't take 'no' for an answer. Stubborn just like James that way…except James would have burned the kitchen down if he ever touches the stove with a ten-foot pole. I want lamb chops."

Lupin still seemed hesitant. "I wouldn't mind lamb chops as well…"

Harry rolled his eyes. "That was…uncreative. Not very fun that way." With that, he went off into the kitchen.

"Wait, Harry, let me help you," Lupin called, as he went off into the kitchen as well.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Moony will never change…"

"Professor, it's fine!" Harry's voice cried out from the kitchen.

Sirius laughed, seeing Harry push Lupin out of the kitchen with one hand. "Moony, the kitchen is Harry's element. Don't worry that you're being a burden or whatever. Harry's probably ecstatic that he has more people to cook for. Come on. I'll show you around while we wait for Chef Jr. to finish making dinner."

"Aren't you a bit ashamed at having a twelve-year-old cook your meals for you?"

Sirius pretended to think before shrugging. "Nope, not at all. Wait until you taste his lamb chops. You'll no longer have any guilt. I missed his cooking. He's better than the house elves at Hogwarts!"

**Please review!**


	21. Lucius's Revenge

**Lucius's Revenge**

Harry woke up and went downstairs to prepare breakfast. Sirius's trial was at one that afternoon, and he was extremely nervous. He had never been to an actual trial although he's seen many pictures of them. Humming to himself softly as he fried some eggs, he felt his anxiety drain away as he placed all his energy into his hobby.

"Good morning, Harry," Lupin said tiredly as he descended the stairs.

"Good morning, Professor." Harry smiled as he pushed some eggs, sausages, and hash browns onto a plate. "Here you go, Sir."

"Harry, you make me feel as if you're my butler," Lupin said, feeling extremely awkward but taking the offered plate. "Since this is your house, you can address me as just 'Remus,' you know." He set his plate on the counter so that he could eat while talking to Harry. Despite being at Potter Manor for less than a day, Lupin already felt at home. It was like living as part of a happy family. There was no worry about a rent; there was no fear of prejudice. There was only simple acceptance.

"But you're my teacher, Professor, no matter where you are!" Harry protested as he began to make a plate for Sirius.

Sirius came in as he said that and said happily, "Breakfast!" Of course, the first thing Sirius would think about when he wakes up in the morning was breakfast, particularly one made by his godson. Who cared if he was going to have a trial that would determine his fate later that day?

Lupin shook his head. "Shameless you are."

Sirius paused for a second in wolfing down his food. "What? He likes to cook, and I like to eat what he cooks. It all works out."

Harry grinned before frying some eggs for himself. Despite living in luxury, Harry had never taken to gluttony. Of course, watching his cousin stuffing his mouth every day for several years might have been a reason for that. "See, Professor, nothing to worry about!" Harry glanced at his watch before saying, "I have to go to Diagon Alley today for some more potion bottles, and I need to stock up on parchment." He carefully lifted the unbroken yolk and dropped the entire thing into his mouth. He felt as if the yolk exploded in his mouth as he bit into it.

Lupin noticed his strange way of eating fried eggs but made no comment.

Sirius, on the other hand, didn't even blink. "I might as well go with you since the trial's in three hours anyway."

"You're really calm about this, aren't you?" Lupin asked.

"Of course," Sirius said. "After all, I'm about to be cleared. No use denying it – the evidence is overwhelming, thanks to you." He grinned at Harry, who ducked his head bashfully. He laughed before asking, "So when are we leaving?"

"Whenever you're done," Harry said, placing his plate in the sink.

Sirius gawked. "How did you finish so fast?"

"Practice," Harry replied cheekily. He waited patiently for Sirius to finish before clearing his and Lupin's plates. Then he and Sirius went into the living room and Harry handed Sirius an ornate glass bowl filled three-fourths of the way with floo powder. He took a pinch for himself before stepping into the fireplace.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Stingy about floo powder much? Didn't you say you have several floo plants in the garden?"

Harry shrugged. "Floo powder is a commodity. Besides, why would you want to use more? The more you use, the rougher your ride's going to be. I tested it. A pinch is enough, and you'll just appear on the other end, still on your feet. Perhaps a bit dusty but what do you expect from travelling through a fireplace?" He threw the floo powder onto the floor and cried out, "Diagon Alley!" With that, he disappeared in green flames.

Sirius followed him, transforming immediately into his Animagus form after he stated his destination. The next thing he knew, he was sprawled on the floor of a fireplace in some shop in Diagon Alley. Shaking the ash off of himself, he saw that Harry had already cleaned himself with his wand.

"I told you. Come on, Sirius," Harry laughed, leading Sirius out of the shop. "I need to go to Potages first to get some potion bottles." With that, Harry led Sirius on a shopping spree, buying several large crystalline and glass potion bottles as well as some small vials. Then they bought numerous rolls of parchment and bottles of ink. Seeing as they still had some time, Harry went off into Madam Malkin's, where he bought some Muggle clothing as well as wizarding wear. To Harry's (and Sirius's) displeasure, Narcissa and her son Draco were there as well.

"Hey, Potter, heard you're going to defend the criminal, Black?" Draco drawled.

"That's right. I thought you would have been more informed because I was pretty sure the entire school knew that several weeks ago. A bit slow there, no?" Harry said coolly.

"Really, Potter, I thought you were the Gryffindor Golden Boy. Isn't defending a criminal who's supposed to be your parents' murderer an insult to their memory? I mean, if I were you, I'd want revenge."

"Well, first of all, you are not me, and I never asked you what you would do if you were. I'm still curious as to what makes your opinions so grand and important that you have to share them with everyone in the vicinity. Second of all, Sirius was framed. I suggest you check your news sources." Seeing Madam Malkin getting nervous watching them, Harry hurriedly led Sirius out of the shop before either of them lose their cool and start a brawl. It would not be good…at all.

Carrying large packages of merchandise towards the fireplace, Harry left them at Potter Manor before heading off to Whitehall to go to the Ministry with Sirius. Entering a telephone box, Harry entered the number 62442 and put his ear to the phone. Passes were issued for both him and Sirius, who morphed into his human form.

"Are you sure that's wise, Sirius? Everyone might scream and run away from you," Harry said innocently even though his heart was thumping wildly in nervousness.

Sirius snorted. "It'll make it easier to reach the lifts. With so many people working in the Ministry, it would take forever for us to get one. Besides, no one will stop us. They all know I have a trial today."

When they stopped on the eighth floor, the Atrium, they both stepped into the Ministry, and Harry, amazed at the architecture despite his nervousness, said to Sirius, "You know, Sirius, we should make a Marauder's Map of the Ministry. It might come in useful one day."

"Exactly what I'm thinking," Sirius said, winking.

For a second, Harry was confused as to why no one in the crowded Atrium was screaming yet until he realized that Sirius was almost unrecognizable from his Azkaban prisoner picture, which depicted him as a sinister, malevolent, maniacal being in prison rags. Stepping into the Ministry, Sirius was handsome, elegant, calm, young-looking. He was cleanly shaven, his dark hair in soft layered spikes that reached slightly below his jaw, and his grey eyes shone with life. He wore a dark shirt with a light black jacket and dark blue jeans, and he was even wearing a simple ear stud. If one didn't know their relationship, they would've thought that Sirius was Harry's older brother.

"Okay, I know that since we're about to be at the mercy of the Ministry, I shouldn't jinx it, but really, if you can walk around in broad daylight and no one cares even though we're in Ministry headquarters…" Harry began.

"You have a very good point. And they kept saying that they're close to catching me." Sirius shrugged. "And here I am, just waiting to be captured by Aurors who appear to be absent."

They walked towards the golden gates on the far end of the hall where there were twenty or so lifts transporting people to different levels in the Ministry. As they passed the Fountain of Magical Brethren, Harry had the crazy urge to laugh at the unrealistic scene. Golden statues of a house elf, a goblin, and a centaur looked up with adoration and awe at two statues of a noble-looking wizard and a beautiful witch. If any centaur or goblin saw this, they would have thrown a fit! Harry shook his head. He never had much respect for the Ministry anyway, at least most of it.

As they approached the lifts, waiting for their turn, Harry felt his earlier feelings of nervousness seeping in again. However, this time, there was also a feeling of…dread? "Sirius, why do I feel…as if something bad is going to happen at the trial?"

Sirius turned to him and placed an arm around his shoulders. "To be completely honest, Harry, I would not have gone to this trial had Dumbledore was not in on this. The Ministry, as far as I can tell, was not after me mainly because of justice, or any good reason for that matter. They were certainly factors, but they were not the true reasons. They were after me more because they were worried about their reputation." Smiling, he squeezed Harry's shoulder. "However, at this trial, Harry, I feel quite safe."

"This is really weird," Harry muttered as they entered a lift. "You're less worried about this trial than I am."

"You just worry too much, Harry." However, when Harry looked up into Sirius's eyes, not only was there some nervousness in them, but a stronger emotion – resentfulness – was also shown.

Harry thought that it was understandable. Spending eleven years in Azkaban without ever receiving a trial would make it difficult for a person to forgive and forget. Harry himself resented the Ministry for that, and he hadn't been the one rotting in prison. As they reached the tenth level where the courtroom for the Wizengamot was, Sirius squeezed Harry's hand tightly before stepping into the courtroom.

Harry also stepped into the room and felt rather sick. Maybe he should have gone without breakfast. Throwing up in the middle of the courtroom would not be a good idea. Above them were fifty or so witches and wizards, most of whom were in plum-colored robes. All were staring down their noses at him and Sirius. Many were whispering with each other. Obviously, they never even expected Sirius to come to the trial.

"It seems as though Dumbledore was removed from his position as Chief Warlock for this one trial," Sirius whispered to Harry, anxiously eyeing the chair in the middle of the classroom. "Probably due to conflicts of interest…"

"Don't worry. He'll come in with Pettigrew," Harry said, although he glanced at the door anxiously. Where was Dumbledore?

"Will the one by the name of Sirius Orion Black please step forward and take a seat?" Fudge said.

Harry knew how Sirius must be feeling. He had seen people chained to that chair, and it was designed to make the accused feel like prisoners. No doubt they would want to do that to Sirius, an accused 'murderer.' However, Sirius walked calmly to the chair and sat down. Chains immediately sprung to life and held him in place, and he flinched but, besides that, gave no indication that he was intimidated in the slightest.

"The accusations against you were that you betrayed Lily and James Potter to You-Know-Who twelve years ago and later murdered Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles," Fudge stated. "Do you answer to these accusations?"

"No" was Sirius's cold, plain reply.

Immediately whispering could be heard throughout the courtroom before Amelia Bones banged her gavel. "Does the accused have evidence as to suggest his innocence?"

"He does."

All heads turned to the door where just a few minutes ago, Harry and Sirius had entered. Albus Dumbledore strolled in, his blue robes trailing slightly behind him. Both his hair and his long beard were tied with two ribbons. With one arm behind his back and the other hand holding a cage with a panicking rat inside, he appeared very presentable and calm (except for the part where he was holding a cage with a screaming rat in it). "My apologies, Harry, for my lateness. Mr. Malfoy had been persistent in having a very enlightening conversation with me in which he quite amazingly predicted the future for this trial to end badly. For professional purposes, I will pretend to ignore his wisdom."

Harry couldn't help but grin at the tone of Dumbledore's voice, noticing that Sirius was also about to pull on his chains in laughter. Harry felt his nervousness drain away.

Dumbledore placed the cage on the floor in front of Sirius and stepped back, pointing his wand at the cage. In a flash of bright light, the cage collapsed and the rat disappeared. In its place was Peter Pettigrew. Sirius nearly lunged out of his chair at him, except the chains held him in place.

Harry looked up at the Wizengamot to see, to his satisfaction, many of them shocked. "This is Peter Pettigrew if clarification is needed." With that statement, the courtroom burst into whispers.

"Sir, state your name!" Madam Bones said in a loud, authoritative voice to Pettigrew.

"P-Peter Pettigrew," the sniveling man muttered, eyeing the Wizengamot fearfully. Then he burst out, crying, "Please don't send me to the Dementors! Have mercy! He was the one who betrayed them!" He pointed at Sirius, who looked as if he was about to murder him there and then. "They're blackmailing me into this! I swear it!"

"_Silencio!"_ Harry said, pointing his wand at Peter, whose mouth continued to open and close but no sound came out. Harry looked away from him, who turned to Harry in horror. "Anyway, er," Harry began, aware that the entire court was giving him its fullest attention and feeling nervous because of that. "That wasn't really our evidence. If I could make an appeal for Veritaserum…"

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter, but you do know that Veritaserum can be fallible, yes?" a toadlike woman next to Fudge simpered. Her eyes stared at him maliciously.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yes…"

"So that wouldn't work in proving Black's innocence?" she asked triumphantly.

"Couldn't you hold your bloody flapping tongue for about two minutes so that my godson can get more than two words in?" Sirius said out loud, annoyed. "He may be young, but I'm sure he has far cleverer things to say than asking if Veritaserum can be fallible. Thank you for asking and pointing out the obvious." He smirked at the woman's obvious anger. He sat back with a smug expression on his face.

"How dare you? Do you know who I am?" the woman hissed.

"Miss Umbridge," Amelia Bones interrupted loudly, "the court is only concerned with evidence and the truth. We do not bring claims of reputation and rank in here. If you are so inclined to, then please leave!"

Although the woman looked as though she wanted to murder the entire court, she took a deep, shaking breath and said nothing, only fuming. Clearly, she had never been dismissed like that before.

"Now, Mr. Potter, what is it that you requested? And please make your reasoning clear to the rest of us," Amelia Bones said, turning her attention towards Harry.

Grateful and with burning cheeks, Harry made his request clear. "If I could make an appeal for Veritaserum, I could administer it to Pettigrew so that he would be telling the truth rather than lying. Yes, Veritaserum is fallible but only if the victim is good at Occlumency, or if he has the antidote to the serum. It could also be fallible due to the fact that what the victim says is what he believes to be the truth, not what the truth is."

As Harry talked, his confidence began to grow, knowing that he had the court's full consideration now – both because Sirius spoke on his behalf and because he demonstrated his knowledge of Veritaserum. It was obvious that Harry knew what he was talking about – he wasn't just an underage wizard. He had never been so grateful that Snape had him read up on Veritaserum so that he could brew the antidote to it. "I wasn't planning on administering the potion to Sirius, because I knew you would use those excuses," he said, speaking directly to the toadlike woman, who looked as if she was about to explode in anger. "I was planning on giving it to Pettigrew, because it would have sidestepped all those obstacles. Even though you can make an argument that one can dodge the power of Veritaserum when one claims to be innocent, how can you say the same thing, if the person is confessing to be guilty? It wouldn't make sense. As to why Pettigrew is still alive today, it's because that night, Sirius didn't attack him." Harry then waited for the response from the Wizengamot.

"Good argument, Harry," Sirius whispered to his godson.

Harry grinned, noticing that Dumbledore also gave him a nod of approval.

"Request granted," Madam Bones announced the decision of the court. "The method is reasonable and logical. If Pettigrew confessed to his crime, it will attest to Black's innocence." After Peter was administered Veritaserum, Madam Bones asked him, "Is your name Peter Pettigrew?"

"Yes" came the dull reply. Pettigrew's eyes were completely clouded over.

"Give the full account of the incident between you and Sirius Black twelve years ago when you two confronted each other after the murders of Lily and James Potter."

"I knew he was after me, knowing that I betrayed them to the Dark Lord. They had made me their secret-keeper, switching from Black to me. So I confronted him instead, asking him why he betrayed them. Doing this would attest to my assumed innocence. Then I fired a Blasting Curse behind my back and bit off my finger to make it seemed as though Black did it all. Then I transformed into my Animagus form, a rat, and escaped down the sewers, arriving at the home of the Weasleys to be their pet rat for eleven years." There was a silence after his confession.

"We await your decision," Harry said and stepped to Sirius's side.

Then Amelia Bones finally said, "Very well. Let's hear the verdict…"

"If I may, Madam Bones, I would like to bring some concerns regarding Black." Lucius Malfoy stepped into the courtroom, surprising all.

Staring at Lucius suspiciously, Madam Bones nevertheless replied in her booming voice, "Very well. What are those concerns?"

"My concern is that since Black was so powerful as to escape from Azkaban, perhaps he would be better off living as a Muggle. That way, he would pose no threat to Wizarding society. It is true that in this case, he was innocent, but it was a very close call."

"That's a bit illogical, isn't it, Mr. Malfoy?" Madam Bones asked uncertainly. "That's just like saying that every powerful wizard should be stripped of his magical powers because it is possible that he could be a threat to society. That's just like saying we should take away Professor Dumbledore's wand simply because he's too powerful."

Lucius shook his head with fake benevolence. "Madam Bones, you misunderstood me. No one can doubt Albus Dumbledore's goodness and benevolence. For years, he has been faithful to the Wizarding world. Anyone who says otherwise is lying. However, Black here has had many associations with Pettigrew in his youth."

"Don't you dare make connections between me and that rat," growled Sirius, who was clenching his hands.

"Perhaps…some of Pettigrew's darker characteristics rubbed off on Black. We don't know. And with such power…I cannot even begin to describe the consequences. We should quash evil in its earliest form, my friends, or else, the Ministry will only have more trouble later on. Simply living like a Muggle will do him no harm, and it could also prevent further threats along the line. I leave it to the conscience of my fellow witches and wizards to decide the fate of the Wizarding world."

Harry knew Lucius was playing on the fears of the Ministry. If a wizard has the power to escape Azkaban and the potential to be evil (or a greater potential than most because of their past)…that would definitely scare the Ministry.

Amelia Bones still seemed unconvinced. "Very well…If no one has any objections…we will go on with the verdict."

"I do." Harry's soft voice seemed loud in his own ears. He knew there will be consequences for him if he confessed, but he couldn't allow Sirius to be stripped of his wizard's powers – it was the most terrible thing for any wizard.

Sirius, realizing what Harry was about to do, struggled against his chains. "Damn it all, Harry! Forget it! Don't do it!"

"On my visit to his cell in Azkaban, I lent him my wand so that he could escape. He didn't do it because of his own powers. He was able to escape because I helped him." The entire courtroom was quiet.

Lucius looked as if his birthday had arrived early. "My fellow wizards, this is even a greater threat to the Wizarding world. This boy helped an accused mass murderer escape from Azkaban! The sentence for that is thirty years in Azkaban and his wand snapped…"

Dumbledore, who appeared shocked before, now addressed the Wizengamot, interrupting Lucius, "If I may interrupt Mr. Malfoy here, we must take into consideration that Mr. Potter must've known Black was innocent or else he would not have lent him his wand."

"You mean he must've have thought he knew. How was he to know for certain?" Lucius asked slyly.

Dumbledore glanced at Harry. "He must have his reasons because he had no reasons to trust Black, who was accused of both betrayal and murder. Therefore, we can conclude that he has much more reliable sources than the _Daily Prophet_!"

"Very well then. What are these sources, Potter?" Lucius sneered.

Harry shifted uncomfortably but remained silent.

"My fellow magical brethren, as you can clearly see, he is a threat to the Wizarding community. We should be glad that Black is not an actual murderer, or else half of us would have been dead by today!"

Dumbledore entered again. "The result here has shown us today that Harry had done the right thing. He saved an innocent man from suffering in prison. Surely, the Ministry would not discourage such actions." Even Dumbledore was now taking advantage of the Ministry's fear for their reputation.

Suddenly, an old wizard of Wizengamot stood up and suggested, "I propose a compromise." He clasped his hands behind his back before continuing, "It is quite clear that Mr. Potter must've known that Black was innocent. He did do the right thing, at least in his own mind and in the long run, and the Ministry should not try to discourage that. In addition, his age is also a delicate issue. However…it was wrong for him to take action as he did, taking matters into his own hands. Perhaps Black had been wrongly accused and sentenced to Azkaban without a trial, but that is not for Mr. Potter to decide. What happens if Black really was a murderer? What if things were more complicated than just the switching of Secret-Keepers? It matters not now that we have the full confession, but before the capture of Pettigrew, the fate of society would have been up for chance. Therefore, I propose that we lighten the punishment for him – perhaps a week in Azkaban will suffice and his wand will not be broken. That will discourage such illegal actions from happening again." He slowly sat down as silence permeated the courtroom.

"Please…"

All eyes turned towards Sirius, who was trembling in his chains.

"Please don't send him there. He's young…I'll do anything. Just don't send him there," Sirius said softly.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Black," Madam Bones said, "that is up to the decision of the Wizengamot." For the first time since the beginning of the trial, her voice was soft and quiet, almost regretful. "We cannot bend the rules as such."

"But he's just a boy," Dumbledore suddenly spoke, his voice soft. "Perhaps not Azkaban…"

"And it was a serious crime he committed," the toadlike woman simpered again. "He could have put the entire Wizarding world in jeopardy. Making an example of him will ensure such actions won't happen again."

Madam Bones banged her gavel. "Is there any other factor to consider?" Seeing no more interruptions, she said in her booming voice, although it lacked the power it had before, "All in favor of Arginald's proposal?"

It was definitely a majority. Harry lowered his head. He had come here, thinking the trial was going to go so well…He felt numb, still in shock. He was going to spend a week, reliving the memories of his greatest torments…Trembling, he turned to see Sirius frozen in his seat even though the chains had retreated away from him. Dumbledore himself appeared speechless.

Fudge seemed hesitant, but he announced, "Very well. When would you like to start your sentence, Mr. Potter?"

"Tomorrow morning," Harry replied dully. The earlier he gets this over with, the better. He saw Sirius sprang to his feet, and realizing what he was about to do, Harry grabbed him from behind. Due to his size, he didn't have much momentum, but he was still able to stop Sirius from tackling Lucius.

"You scumbag!" Sirius growled.

"Sirius, you just got cleared! Don't…" Harry grunted as he used all his strength to pull Sirius back.

"The boy got the right idea, Black. At least he has some sense in him," Lucius taunted. Then he swept out of the courtroom.

Harry saw the look he gave him and realization hit him – Lucius had finally had his revenge on him.

…

"Damn that bastard!" Sirius cursed for the tenth time as they got out of the fireplace in Potter Manor. "DAMN THEM ALL TO HELL!" he roared as he rammed his fist into the wall. Pain shot up his arm, but he didn't care.

Lupin came down the stairs, reading a book, and said calmly, "Sirius, what's going on? I can hear you from my room…"

"Harry's been sentenced to Azkaban, Lupin," Sirius breathed out, panting slightly.

Lupin's book dropped to the floor. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock. "What?" he asked in disbelief.

"HARRY'S BEEN SENTENCED TO AZKABAN!" Sirius roared. "Damn the Wizengamot! Damn the Ministry! And damn that scumbag Malfoy!"

Harry meanwhile had been extremely quiet. Finally he said softly, "Sirius, i-it's okay. It's only a week, and…"

"A week? You don't understand, Harry. It's living hell there," Sirius panted. "A WEEK IS ENOUGH TO MAKE SOME MEN MAD!" he roared. "Our trial," he growled, turning to Lupin, "was going fine. It was going exactly the way we wanted it to go…UNTIL THAT SON OF A WHORE CAME! THE NEXT TIME I SEE THAT BASTARD, I WILL MAKE SURE HE ROT IN HELL!"

Lupin turned to Harry, his eyes wide in panic. "Harry…Dumbledore couldn't do anything about it?"

"He lightened the sentence," Harry muttered. "It was the best he could do. Originally, it was thirty years in Azkaban and my wand would've been snapped."

Lupin slumped into an armchair, hunching over, his elbow on his knee as he rubbed his forehead. He never looked older and more tired than he did then. "Harry, you have no idea how bad this is," he said slowly, his voice shaking.

Harry was quiet. Then, without a word, he slowly walked away. He opened the kitchen door and went outside.

…

It was his last night before his stay in Azkaban. Harry was walking around the gardens, trying to calm himself. However, it was futile. He had felt the effects of Dementors – and that was only for a few minutes. He finally slumped down against a tree, shaking. His mind couldn't rest. Lupin was wrong when he said Harry didn't know how bad it was. Harry knew – he knew better than anyone else. Not only was he going to be spending a week of torture in the wizard prison, but afterwards…the rest of his life would become affected. No one would even consider giving a former Azkaban prisoner a job. No one would hear his side of the story either. They'll just assume he helped a prisoner escape.

Tears ran down Harry's face, mixing with sweat which not only drenched his hair but also trickled down his forehead and temple. He thought he was safe from the Dursleys in the Wizarding World. No…not anymore.

Hearing the grass rustling to his left, Harry's head jerked up in panic. He couldn't let Sirius or Lupin see him like this…

"Harry?"

Harry closed his eyes. It was a small relief, but a relief nonetheless. It was Hermione.

"Professor Lupin told me I might find you here," she said quietly. She slowly, almost uncertainly, approached him before sitting down next to him. Then, gently, she pulled him into a hug. She was the only one who knew. Harry broke down and sobbed into her shoulder, knowing that she would understand.

"I'm so scared, Hermione," he sobbed.

Hermione didn't reply. She had never seen Harry so…vulnerable. "Let it out, Harry," she said gently. "It will be okay. It will always be in the end. Trust me." She smiled sadly. She knew Azkaban will be torture, and she would comfort her friend in any way she can before his ordeal.

**Please review.  
><strong>


	22. The Measure of One's Love

**The Measure of One's Love**

**Sorry for not updating for a while, but I was so busy that I couldn't even breathe the next few months.**

**The trial went as follows. Lucius played off the Ministry's fears. It's similar to the Ministry refusing to admit that Voldemort has returned even though the evidence was right in front of them. Harry didn't feel guilty and confessed. He feared for the fate of his own godfather. If he confessed his own "crime," that would undermine Sirius's escape. It would not be Sirius escaping from Azkaban by his own power – it would be Harry helping him escape from Azkaban. **

**Also, several notes about this situation:**

**This will be the last time that Harry is treated like this.**

**To answer a review, yes, I am planning something quite…bad…for Lucius Malfoy. Although, don't hold your breath. It won't be coming for quite a few more chapters.**

**Last note: I find it quite…um…for lack of better word for it, interesting when someone said that if this was the way Harry was going to act throughout my entire story, then I should change my story title. Actually, in my opinion, I find my title quite fitting. What does it mean to be a "true" champion?**

Snape usually spent his holidays, even the Easter holidays, in solitude in his home in Spinner's End. There, he would read or brew potions, whichever suited his fancy at the moment. He had never been interrupted before, so when he heard a knock on his door in the middle of his reading, he was somewhat surprised, and quite irritated. He stood up and marched to the door, about to yell at the person to go away and leave a peaceful potions master be. However, when he saw who it was, he stopped himself. "Headmaster, it's a pleasure to see you," he said silkily. "May I ask what brings you here?"

Dumbledore entered Snape's home as he held the door open for him. "Severus, there is something I must speak to you about. I require your assistance after Easter break."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "And what does this assistance consist of?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Severus, have you really been so isolated the last few days that you don't know of any of the happenings in the Wizarding World?"

"The Muggle world is far, far more peaceful, Headmaster," Snape said curtly. He was becoming more annoyed by the second. Dumbledore was beating around the bush, and he had reading to do.

Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back and said gravely, "Harry's been sent to Azkaban." There was a silence.

"Pardon?" Snape said blankly.

Dumbledore rubbed his temple. "Harry's been sent to Azkaban."

Snape's eyes flashed. "What do they think they're playing at? That boy would never do something as stupid as breaking the law – especially not a law that would send him to Azkaban."

"Unfortunately, he did, and the Wizengamot has found it fitting to send him to Azkaban for a week." Dumbledore stared out a window. "Severus, I'm not here to talk to you about their decision. I'm here to discuss with you how we are to remedy this. The past we cannot change, but we have the future in our hands." Seeing the Snape was giving him his full attention now, Dumbledore continued, "Harry has a very…violent past. I will not disclose it to you for it is his decision as to who should know it and who should not. But the point is, Azkaban could very well change everything he has ever known."

"You are saying that his mind might collapse under the stress."

"Of course. He is strong, Severus. However, the strength of his mind is like thick wood." Dumbledore conjured up a thick plate of wood to make his point. "Under normal circumstances, wood is very strong." Dumbledore whipped the plate against the wall, and the wood fell to the ground, unharmed. "However, when you take advantage of its weakness…" Dumbledore shot a stream of fire at the wood, incinerating it. "Do you understand, Severus?"

Snape nodded. "What are you implying, Headmaster?"

"I suggest healing…through Occlumency." Dumbledore turned to Snape.

"Forgive me for disagreeing, but Occlumency is not an art of healing. It is the art of shielding your mind…"

"I know, Severus. Perhaps 'healing' is not the right word for this. It's more about strengthening Harry's control over his thoughts and memories because, as we both know, how do you shield your mind?"

Snape's answer was soft. "You control it."

…

Harry shivered as he was led by two Aurors to his cell. It was as dreary, cold, and depressing as he had remembered it on his visit to it several months ago. One of the Aurors opened the door to his cell, and Harry hesitated a little before entering it, the door closing behind him. They had taken his wand, so he couldn't use the Patronus Charm…Harry sat down on the floor, hugging his knees and waiting for the creatures to begin their torment. Soon, he began to tremble, but not from cold…

Harry screamed. It was definitely nothing like normal memories. It was as if he was re-experiencing all this…When he was using the Pensieve in his home to help him recuperate and accept his past, it was him watching his younger self get abused. Eventually, through many painful tries, he was finally able to accept his past. However, the Dementors' effect was much different. He was feeling the pain as if it were happening to him at that moment.

Harry's screams rang throughout Azkaban, so much that it scared even some of the nearby prisoners, who covered their ears. Harry no longer even realized he was in Azkaban. He was at the Dursleys and he was reliving his worst nightmares. However, his worst memory was probably of his mother…

_Lily placed Harry down in his playpen. "Harry, my son, everything will be alright," she whispered soothingly despite the tears pouring down her cheeks. "It will be alright." The door burst open, and Lily spun around, fear in her eyes._

"_No," she whispered. "Please don't kill Harry…"_

"_Step aside, you silly girl," Voldemort hissed._

"_Not Harry, please no don't kill him, take me, kill me instead —_" _Lily was panicking now. _

"_This is my last warning —_" _Voldemort hissed impatiently. _

"_Not Harry! Please ... have mercy ... Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything..._" _Lily begged. _

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

_Lily's eyes clouded over as the green light hit her in the chest. _

_Voldemort stepped over her dead body and towards the child. He stared at the boy and smiled sadistically. He raised his wand to the boy's forehead. "Goodbye, Harry Potter. Avada Kedavra!" _

"Mom…" Harry whimpered, tears running down his face. He heard her beg for his life. He saw the green light. He heard her thump to the floor, dead. Because of him. "Mom, please don't go…" His heart felt as if it was about to wrench apart. His body felt as if it was being ripped apart. His mind was crushed.

The hours passed into days. Harry relived hundreds of his memories while in Azkaban, all of them in vivid detail. Hundreds of beatings, rapes, and scenes of emotional torture ran through him. He didn't even realize that he was in Azkaban. He could have gone crazy, but he never would've even known.

His screams vibrated off the walls. They were the screams of true suffering.

…

Hermione had locked herself in her room, not able to bring herself to get out of bed. She didn't tell her parents what happened. It was too painful for her. It was strange – it was almost as if her heart was sharing Harry's pain while he was in Azkaban. She hugged the teddy bear that Harry had given her for her last birthday.

"_I know it's childish, but it's snuggly, don't you think?" Harry asked, an easy grin on his face. _

Would she ever see that grin again, his eyes shining with gentleness and warmth? She knew he was strong – he must've been to be able to recover from his past and recuperate. But…Azkaban was about to destroy everything that he had worked for in the last few years. He had struggled so much to free himself from the damage his relatives had caused to him. He emerged as a calm, easy-going boy despite only several years ago, he appeared skittish and easily frightened. Would Azkaban break him?

Crookshanks leapt onto her bed and rubbed his head on her hand.

Hermione smiled sadly. Harry always gave her the best gifts. "Crookshanks, you can feel it, too, right? Harry's pain?" Tears ran out of the corners of her eyes onto her pillow. She held the Kneazle close to her, sobbing into its fur. Every minute that passed – it was an eternity for her. The picture of the child Harry quivering in fear, submitting to his uncle, never left her mind's eye.

…

Ron opened the letter that Hermione had sent him. "Bloody hell," he whispered.

"What is it, Ron? Is it from Harry?" Ginny piped up from the breakfast table.

"Bloody hell," Ron said again, as if in shock as he sat down in his chair again.

Fred and George gave each other looks. "I think he sounds more intelligible when he's asleep."

"Harry's been sent to Azkaban," Ron said breathlessly. The entire Weasley household was quiet, which was quite a feat, considering there were so many children.

"What?" Molly turned to him, shocked and disbelieving. "But he's such a nice boy! He would never have done anything to break the law so terrible that he had to be sent to Azkaban because of it! The Wizengamot must have made a mistake!"

Ron handed her Hermione's letter, too shock to continue speaking.

Arthur, who read over her shoulder, stood up, bristling. "I'm going to have a little chat with Lucius."

"NO, ARTHUR! Sit!" Molly growled. "But Sirius was innocent anyway! Why does it matter if Harry saved him before? It was good!"

"They're playing off the fact of what could have happened!" Fred said angrily. "I suppose they thought it would deter such actions from happening again."

"I don't get why he just didn't curse Lucius's mouth off," George said, with equal anger. "I'm sure he can. All the teachers compliment him on his wandwork. Some of the best they have ever seen. Almost flawless. I bet he could turn Malfoy into a little cockroach and no one can turn him back."

"You guys really don't understand Harry, do you?" Ginny asked quietly. The entire table turned to her. "He would never seek revenge. Malfoy did this to Harry to get his revenge on him for the humiliation at Flourish and Blotts and the humiliation of losing his house elf and his pride. He was petty – he lost to a twelve-year-old. If Harry transfigured Malfoy into a cockroach or something as revenge, he'd be no better than Malfoy, and he's big on a different kind of 'better.' He doesn't care about blood purity or whatever, but he cares a lot about moral character."

"Wait until I get back to Hogwarts. I'm going to kill Malfoy Jr." Ron had finally found his voice.

"Harry will probably stop you," Ginny said plainly.

Fred slammed his hand on the table. "This is so bloody stupid! People are taking advantage of him left and right and he doesn't even do anything about it! What's so great about moral character if people just walk all over you?"

"He's barely twelve. What if he does do something about it?" Ginny asked impatiently. "This isn't a game of pretend! This is real life. Fine, I'll put it in practical terms then, if you're so against the romantic idealism! If he attacked Malfoy, he would've been restrained by all the wizards and witches in the Wizengamot. Then he'll be having an even longer sentence to Azkaban. Sirius might not even be cleared! And he's willing to sacrifice himself to prevent all that!"

"He saved your life! Don't you care about his?" Fred roared.

"Fred, sit down!" Molly scolded.

Her son looked as if he was about to argue, thought better of it, and then sat down. "What does he get out of all this?" he growled at Ginny.

"He got everything he could have wanted out of such a situation, minus his sentence and the consequences of such a sentence. Sirius was completely cleared of charges. That was all he wanted. He wanted Sirius's freedom. He wanted them to be a happy family without the stress from being chased down by the authorities! He wanted to be able to say goodbye to Sirius at the train station without Aurors rushing forward!" Ginny bit her lower lip. "I do care about him…and I don't agree with him being sent to Azkaban. But I trust his decisions."

…

Luna glanced at the _Daily Prophet_. It actually caught her attention this time. "Harry's in Azkaban?" She tilted her head. Do they allow visits? No, probably not. The sentence was only for a week. Maybe she can make him something for when he returns though. But what though?

They didn't know each other that well. However, the bond between them was strong.

But what was she to do to make Harry feel better? She tapped her lip thoughtfully with her pencil. Maybe…it wouldn't be the first present someone would think of to give to someone like Harry, but in Luna's opinion, it would suit him perfectly.

…

"Sirius, stop drinking!" Lupin said, pulling the bottle of firewhiskey away from his friend. "I know you're upset but you've been drinking for six days now. We're going to pick him up tomorrow, so get a hold of yourself!"

"Moony, do you…?" Sirius slurred. "…do you think…Harry will be alright?"

"Of course I do," Lupin said, although he was having doubts himself. "C'mon, Sirius, let's get you upstairs before you break something."

…

Sirius, Remus, and Hermione arrived at Harry's cell and were appalled. Not only were human feces littered everywhere, but there were also signs of blood. "What happened?" Hermione whispered in horror.

One of the Aurors answered nervously, "The guards said that apparently, he was in so much emotional pain, he bit himself. They could hear his screams echoing off the walls." He glanced with pity at the curled up figure on the floor of the prison before looking away.

The minute the door opened, all three of them rushed towards Harry.

"Harry!" Hermione was about to hug him when Harry flinched and moved away from her quickly in terror. Her heart nearly broke. She had never seen such a thing. "Harry, it's me, Hermione. Wake up. It's over."

"H-Hermione?" he whispered in a small voice. "What's going on?"

"You were sent to Azkaban for a week, remember?" she said gently, adopting the tone Harry always used when trying to coax a frightened animal.

When he looked up, Hermione jumped. He looked…terrible. He obviously hadn't been eating for a while. Tears were running down his dirty face, making streaks. His eyes looked almost dead. "_Tergeo! Scourgify_!" she whispered, cleaning him up.

"Harry, let's get you out of here," Sirius muttered, lifting his godson up and carrying him out of his cell.

Hermione looked back at the cell that Harry was in. It pained her. She knew Harry must've thought he was safe from his relatives once he entered the Wizarding World. But, no, they continue to have their influence on him. It was almost like a betrayal of sorts. Hermione lightly touched the walls of the cell on her way out and held the feelings in her heart. This was Harry's suffering. She would remember it. Nothing was worse than not remembering someone's suffering in the name of love. Sighing, she followed Remus and Sirius back to Potter Manor. "Harry, prison rags really don't suit you," she tried to joke gently to pull him out of his depressed state, although she wasn't very good at that kind of thing. Usually, she just attempts to do so, and Harry, not wanting to hurt her feelings, does most of the work.

However, Harry appeared too exhausted to even smile as a response.

Hermione hung her head. She had never seen him so helpless. He was usually energetic and full of life. When they arrived at Potter Manor, all the house elves surrounded them, clambering to take care of their master. Sirius finally handed him over before collapsing on an armchair, his face in his hand. While Remus talked to him, Hermione went upstairs to Harry's room.

There, she found him curled up on his bed. She noted sadly that it was a very different way from how he usually sleeps. Usually, he sleeps with one hand behind his head, the other on his stomach, with a content smile on his face. "Harry?" Receiving no answer, Hermione pulled up a chair and sat down next to his bed. She won't leave his side. Closing her eyes, she dozed off. A few minutes later, she jerked awake to Harry's whimpering. _Nightmare… _Careful with her movements, she touched Harry's shoulder to wake him. He had always been a light sleeper.

To her surprise, Harry jerked awake and leapt away from her touch, his eyes wide in fear like a cornered animal.

"Harry! It's me, Hermione!"

Harry was breathing deeply, trembling uncontrollably. However, it was clear that he was trying to get back his bearings.

"Remember, Harry? You went to Azkaban for a week! But it's over," Hermione said gently.

Harry closed his eyes. "I remember. It's just…for a while, I thought I was really back there."

"Harry, you will never go back there," she said soothingly.

"I know, but tell that to my body and my subconscious," Harry muttered. He shivered. "I need to calm down or else Hogwarts is going to find me a big pain, especially at night." He placed a hand to his face, his eyes pained.

Hermione closed her eyes. "Harry, how do you do this?"

"Do what?"

"How do you take this all?" Hermione said, her voice high. "Your parents were killed and a terrorist was after you when you were just a baby. Then you lived eight years in constant terror at the hands of your own relatives. Until you go to Hogwarts, you were trying to recuperate from all that. Then, even at Hogwarts, you faced isolation and terror again! Now Azkaban…How do you still remain so…"

"So…what?"

"You know," Hermione said as if going off another topic. "The other day, I told Ginny that you saved her down in the Chamber because you love her."

Harry cocked his head. "That's true, kind of. Treat others as you would want to be treated, kind of like the Golden Rule. Only, since you want everyone to love you, you can translate it to 'love others as yourself.'"

"But people don't treat you the same way! Harry, if you were taken down into the Chamber, how many people would actually go down there for you?" Hermione asked angrily. "And it makes me really angry to see you willing to sacrifice everything you have, and yet, you're not getting anything in return. You were willing to sacrifice your life to stop Voldemort from returning last year, and what did people do? They turn on you without a second thought when they heard you speak Parseltongue! You're loyal; they're not! Doesn't it make the Golden Rule null and void?" Then she muttered, "People don't give you a reason to be good to them. I didn't even give you a reason to save me last year."

"Hermione, if we all think that way, how will anything change?" Harry asked. "The change has to start somewhere. Why not with us?" Then he reached for her hand, which he had just jerked away from. Hermione noticed that his hand was trembling. "You're loyal, and looking at you only gives me more reason to continue what I'm doing."

Without even realizing it, tears ran down Hermione's cheeks. "Harry, where did you learn to love so much?"

Harry thought about it for a while. "I don't think it was something I learned, at least not by observation – as you can probably guess. Feeling pain, I know I don't like it on myself, so why should I give it to others? I think it was just that observation. I think that love is a choice, Hermione. Perhaps you can't control it completely, but you can either decide to _try_ to let go of your heart…or you can choose not to."

That was the last straw. Hermione broke down, sobbing. Tears dropped onto the back of Harry's hand. Even though he was in such a weak state, her love for him had never been stronger. Her chest felt painful. For some weird reason, it was as if the more pain he suffered, the more she loved him. "I love you, Harry. With all of my heart. I hate to see you hurt. I hate to see people walk all over you. I hate when you're willing to sacrifice so much, but no one even cares. I hate when people turned their backs to you. How could they do that to you? It's so stupid!"

After a silence, Harry whispered, "Merlin, Hermione…"

Hermione felt his arms wrapping themselves around her, pulling her into a hug. Harry pressed her against his chest, and Hermione could hear Harry's heart. It was so strong. She looked up into Harry's eyes. They were gentle and loving, filled with affection. Somehow, throughout Harry's life, his eyes never changed. With a smile, he said, "You're a wonderful person, Hermione, no matter what people say. Thank you."

Hermione muttered, "Jerk…can't you just let someone wallow in their misery without you making them feel better?"

Harry rubbed circles into her back before saying softly, "Think of suffering as the true measure, and proof, of one's love, Hermione. It doesn't look quite so depressing, right? People say that they would jump in front of a bullet for their friends all the time. But you know, death is not quite as painful as suffering while still alive – at least, I don't think so. Death is quick, but suffering isn't. How many people would say they would undergo torture for their friends? The greater the suffering, the greater the love."

Silent tears ran down her cheeks. "Such beautiful words, Harry…"

Harry smiled. "I should be a poet."

"Stupid, you already are."

Harry chuckled. Then he saw an owl outside his window. "Hold on, Hermione…" He stood up and opened the window. The owl flew in and dropped a package on Harry's bed. "What's this?" He picked up the letter attached to the package.

_Harry,_

_I thought you might like this. It's for keeping nightmares away. _

_Luna_

Harry opened the package, expecting an exotic concoction or something of the sort, but when he saw what was inside, a smile lit his face. It was a simple necklace – a small crystal on a thin gold chain.

"What is that?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Something to keep my nightmares away. From Luna." Harry turned towards the window and said softly, "Hermione…I think…everything will be alright in the end." With that, he clasped the necklace on.

Hermione watched his eyes. They reminded her of when she had looked into his Pensieve…but worse. Again, he was very good at hiding his true suffering. Just to what extent did his experience in Azkaban damage him?

…

**I know this is going to be one of the most controversial chapters in my story, but try to be open-minded to the ideas expressed here. Or if you don't like it, this is one chapter that I don't want flames from. This chapter embraces the core ideas of this story – suffering as a true measure of love…sacrifice…perseverance…humility - so this is the only chapter that I don't want any flames. Questions are welcomed, but flames I will ignore.**

**Please review. **


End file.
